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FACING   DEATH 

OR 

THE    HERO    OF   THE    VAUGHAN    PIT 

A  TALE  OF  THE  COAL  MINES 


BY 

G.   A.    HENTY 

AUTHOR  OF  "WITH  CLIVE  IN  INDIA,"  "UNDER  DRAKE'S  FLAG,"  "IN 
FREEDOM'S  CAUSE,"  "THE  YOUNG  CARTHAGINIAN,"  ETC. 


NEW   YORK 

HURST  AND   COMPANY 

Pdblibhers 


Reqr  0^  Tdr^    Libo 


QiFr 


y4527 
CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I.  PAGE 

Evil  Tidings  1 

CHAPTER    II. 
Bulldog c 7 

CHAPTER    III. 
The  Resolution « 19 

CHAPTER    IV. 
The  Vaughan  Pit 25 

CHAPTER  V. 
Betting  to  Work 33 

CHAPTER    VI. 
•'TheOld  Shaft" 37 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Friendship - • •    "^5 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
Progress • ^^ 

CHAPTER    IX. 

TheQreat  Strike 58 

CHAPTER  X. 
Bard  Times.... 71 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Attack  on  the  Engine-house 78 

CHAPTER  XII. 
After  th«  Strike 88 


^v  CONTENTS, 

CHAPTER  XIII.  PAQB 

A  Heavy  Loss...., ,,,.,,,... 94 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Night-school. . . . . , , o 103 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Sewing-class. . , 113 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  New  Life.... ....„ 121 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  Dog  Fight 129 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Stokebridge  Feast 135 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Great  Riot ,.,., 144 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Arm  of  the  Law 153 

CHAPTER  XXL 
A  Knotty  Question. . ,. 153 

CHAPTER  XXIL 
The  Solution. 165 

CHAPTER  XXIIL 
The  Explosion  at  the  Vaughan 176 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
In  Deadly  Peril 187 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
The  Imprisoned  Miners , 190 

CHAPTER  XXVL 
A  Critical  Moment. o .  201 

CHAPTER  XXVn. 
Rescued.. 206 


CONTENTS.  V 

CHAPTER  XXVnL  paob 

Changes. ...,,,., » 218 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  New  Manager 235 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Risen 230 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
Conclasion •  i .  •  1 1  • .  •  > .  i  #  •  i  f  t  • « i  f  1 1 1  •  •  t  • 238 


FACING  DEATH 


CHAPTER  I. 


EVIL  TIDINGS. 


A  ROW  of  brick-built  houses  with  slate  roofs,  at  tha 
edge  of  a  large  mining  village  in  Staffordshire.  The 
houses  are  dingy  and  colorless,  and  without  relief  of  any 
kind.  So  are  those  in  the  next  row,  so  in  the  street  be- 
yond, and  throughout  the  whole  village.  There  is  a 
dreary  monotony  about  the  place;  and  if  some  giant 
could  come  and  pick  up  all  the  rows  of  houses,  and 
change  their  places  one  with  another,  it  is  a  question 
whether  the  men,  now  away  at  work,  would  notice  any 
difference  whatever  until  they  entered  the  houses  stand- 
ing in  the  place  of  those  which  they  had  left  in  the 
morning.  There  is  a  church,  and  a  vicarage  half-hid- 
den away  in  the  trees  in  its  pretty,  old-fashioned  garden; 
there  are  two  or  three  small  red-bricked  dissenting 
chapels,  and  the  doctor's  house,  with  a  bright  brass 
knocker  and  plate  on  the  door.  There  are  no  othey 
buildings  above  the  common  average  of  mining  villages; 
and  it  needs  not  the  high  chimneys,  and  engine-houses 
with  winding  gear,  dotting  the  surrounding  country,  to 
notify  the  fact  that  Stokobridge  is  a  mining  village. 

It  is  a  little  past  noon,  and  many  of  the  women  coma 
to  their  doors  and  look  curiously  after  a  miner,  who,  in  his 
working  clothes,  and  black  with  coal-dust,  walks  rapidly 


%  FACING  DEATH. 

tovrard  his  house,  with  his  head  bent  down,  and  his 
thick  felt  hat  slouched  over  his  eyes. 

"It's  Bill  Haden;  he  works  at  the  'Vaughan.  *  " 

"What  brings  he  up  at  this  hour?" 

"Sumniat  wrong,  I'll  be  bound." 

Bill  Haden  stopped  at  the  door  of  his  house  in  the  row 
i;rst  spoken  of,  lifted  the  latch,  and  went  in.  He  walked 
along  a  narrow  passage  into  the  back  room.  His  wife, 
v.lio  was  standing  at  the  washing-tub,  turned  round  with 
r,  surprised  exclamation,  and  a  bulldog  with  half  a  dozen 
round  tumbling  puppies  scrambled  out  of  a  basket  by 
the  fire,  and  rushed  to  greet  him. 

"What  is  it,  Bill?  what's  brought  thee  home  before 
lime?" 

For  a  moment  Bill  Haden  did  not  answer,  but  stooped, 
and,  as  it  were  mechanically,  lifted  the  dog  and  stroked 
its  head. 

"There's  blood  on  thy  hands.  Bill.  What  be  wrong 
with  'ee?" 

"It  bain't  none  of  mine,  lass,"  the  man  said  in  an 
unsteady  voice.     "It  be  Jack's.     He  be  gone." 

"Not  Jack  Simpson?" 

"Ay,  Jack  Simpson;  the  mate  I  ha'  worked  with  ever 
since  we  were  butties  together.  A  fall  just  came  as  we 
worked  side  by  side  in  the  stall,  and  it  broke  his  neck, 
and  he's  dead." 

The  woman  dropped  into  a  chair,  threw  her  apron  over 
her  head,  and  cried  aloud,  partly  at  the  loss  of  her  hus- 
band's mate,  partly  at  the  thought  of  the  narrow  escape 
he  had  himself  had. 

"Now,  lass,"  her  husband  said,  "there  be  no  time  to 
lose.  It  be  for  thee  to  go  and  break  it  to  his  wife.  I 
ika'  come  straight  on,  a  purpose.  I  thawt  to  do  it,  but  I 
feel  like  a  gal  myself,  and  it  had  best  be  told  her  by 
anothei'  woman." 


FACING  DEATH.  3 

Jane  Haden  took  her  apron  from  her  face. 

"Oh,  Bill,  hoAv  can  I  do  it,  and  she  ill,  and  with  a 
two-month  baby?     I  misdoubt  me  it  will  kill  her." 

"Thou'st  got  to  do  it,"  Bill  said  doggedly,  '^and 
thou'd  best  be  quick  about  it;  it  won't  be  many  minutes 
afore  they  bring  him  in." 

When  Bill  spoke  in  that  way  his  wife  knew,  as  he  said, 
that  she'd  got  to  do  it,  and  without  a  word  she  rose  and 
went  out,  while  her  husband  stood  staring  into  the  fire, 
and  still  patting  the  bulldog  in  his  arms.  A  tear  falling 
on  his  hand  startled  him.  He  dropped  the  dog  and  gave 
it  a  kick,  passed  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes,  and  said 
angrily: 

"Blest  if  I  bain't  a  crying  like  a  gal.  Who'd  a  thawt 
it?  Well,  well,  poor  old  Jack!  he  was  a  good  mate  too" 
■ — and  Bill  Haden  proceeded  to  light  his  pipe. 

Slowly  and  reluctantly  Mrs.  Haden  passed  along  the 
j-ow.  The  sad  errand  on  which  she  was  going  was  cue 
that  has  often  to  be  discharged  in  a  large  colliery  village. 
The  women  who  had  seen  Bill  go  in  were  still  at  their 
doors,  and  had  been  joined  by  others.  The  news  that 
he  had  come  in  at  this  unusual  hour  had  passed  about 
quickly,  and  there  was  a  general  feeling  of  uneasiness 
among  the  women,  all  of  whom  had  husbands  or  relatives 
below  ground.  When,  therefore,  Jane  Haden  came  out 
with  signs  of  tears  on  her  cheeks,  her  neighbors  on 
either  side  at  once  assailed  her  with  questions. 

"Jack  Simpson's  killed  by  a  fall,"  she  said,  "and  I 
ha'  got  to  break  it  to  his  wife. " 

Eapidly  the  news  spread  along  the  row,  from  door  to 
door,  and  from  group  to  group.  The  first  feeling  was 
everyvx'here  one  of  relief  that  it  was  not  their  turn  this 
time ;  then  there  was  a  chorus  of  pity  for  the  widow. 
"It  will   go   hard  with   her,"  was   the   general  verdict. 


4  FACING  BE  ATE. 

Then  the  little  groups  broke  up,  and  -went  back  to  their 
■work  of  getting  ready  for  the  return  of  their  husbands 
from  the  pit  at  two  o'clock.  One  or  two  onlj',  of  those 
most  intimate  with  the  Simpsons,  followed  Jane  Haden 
slowly  down  the  street  to  the  door  of  their  house,  and 
took  up  a  position  a  short  distance  off,  talking  quietly 
together,  in  case  they  might  be  wanted,  and  with  the 
intention  of  going  in  after  the  news  was  broken,  to  help 
comfort  the  widow,  and  to  make  what  preparations  were 
needed  for  the  last  incoming  of  the  late  master  of  the 
house.  It  was  but  a  minute  or  two  that  they  had  to 
pause,  for  the  door  opened  again,  and  Jane  Haden  beck- 
oned them  to  come  in. 

It  had,  as  the  gossips  had  predicted,  gone  hard  with  the 
young  widow.  She  was  sitting  before  the  fire  when 
Jane  entered,  working,  and  rocking  the  cradle  beside 
with  her  foot.  At  the  sight  of  her  visitor's  pale  face, 
and  tear-stained  cheeks,  and  quivering  lips,  she  had 
dropped  her  work  and  stood  up  with  a  terrible  presenti- 
ment of  evil — with  that  dread  which  is  never  altogether 
absent  from  the  mind  of  a  collier's  wife.  She  did  not 
epeak,  but  stood  with  wide-open  eyes  staring  at  her 
visitor. 

"Mary,  my  poor  girl,"  Mrs.  Haden  began. 
That  was   enough;    the  whole  truth   burst   upon  her, 
"He  is  killed?"  she  gasped. 

Mrs.  Haden  gave  no  answer  in  words,  but  her  face  v.-a3 
sufficient  as  she  made  a  step  forward  toward  the  slight 
figure  which  swayed  unsteadily  before  her.  Mary  Sir:;  - 
son  made  no  sound  save  a  gasping  sob,  her  hand  went  1 1 
her  heart,  and  then  she  fell  in  a  heap  on  the  ground,  •  e- 
fore  Mrs.  Haden,  prepra-ed  as  she  vras,  had  time  to  c];v^p 
her. 

"Thank  God,  "Jane  Haden  said,  as  she  went  to  tha 
front  door  and  beckoned  the  others  in,  "she  has  fainted.'* 


FACING  DBATB.  5 

"Ay,  1  thawt  as  much,"  one  of  the  women  said,  "and 
a  good  job  too.  It's  always  best  so  till  he  is  brought 
home,  and  things  are  straightened  up." 

Between  them  Mary  Simpson  was  tenderly  lifted,  and 
carried  upstairs  and  laid  on  the  bed  of  a  lodger's  room 
there.  The  cradle  was  brought  up  and  put  beside  it, 
and  then  Jane  Haden  took  her  seat  by  the  bed,  one 
woman  went  for  the  doctor,  while  the  others  prepared 
the  room  below.  In  a  short  time  all  that  remained  of 
Jack  Simpson  was  borne  home  on  a  stretcher,  on  the 
shoulders  of  six  of  his  fellow-workmen,  and  laid  in  the 
darkened  room.  The  doctor  came  and  went  for  the  next 
tv/o  days,  and  then  bis  visits  ceased. 

It  had  gone  hai'd  with  Mary  Simpson.  She  had  passed 
from  one  long  fainting  fit  into  another,  until  at  last  she 
lay  as  quiet  as  did  Jack  below;  and  the  doctor,  murmur- 
ing "A  weak  heart,  poor  little  woman;  the  shock  was  too 
much  for  her,"  took  his  departure  for  the  last  time  from 
the  house.  Then  Jane  Haden,  who  had  not  left  her 
friend's  side  ever  since  she  was  carried  upstairs  wrapped 
the  baby  in  a  shawl  and  went  home,  a  neighbor  carrying 
the  cradle. 

When  Bill  Haden  returned  from  work  he  found  the 
room  done  up,  the  table  laid  for  tea,  and  the  kettle  ou 
the  fire.  His  wife  was  sitting  by  it  with  the  baby  on 
her  lap. 

"Well,  lass,"  he  said,  as  he  entered  the  room,  "so  the 
poor  gal's  gone.  I  heard  it  as  I  came  along.  Thou'st's 
had  a  hard  two  days  on 't.     Hulloa!  what's  that?" 

"It's  the  baby.  Bill,"  his  wife  said. 

"What  hast  brought  un  hero  for?"  he  asked  roughly. 

Jane  Haden  did  not  answer  directly,  but  standing  in 
front  of  her  husband,  removed  the  handkerchief  which 
covered  the  baby's  face  as  he  lay  on  her  arm. 


6 


FACING  DEATH. 


"Look  at  him,  Bill;  he's  something  like  Jack;  don't 
thou  see  it?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  said  gruffly.  "Kids  dou't  take 
after  their  father,  as  pups  do."     - 

"I  can  see  the  likeness  quite  plain,  Bill.  Now,"  she 
■went  on,  laying  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  "I  want  to 
keep  him.  We  ain't  got  none  of  our  own.  Bill,  and  I 
can't  abear  the  thought  of  his  going  to  the  House." 

Bill  Haden  stood  irresolute. 

"I  shouldn't  like  to  think  of  Jack's  kid  in  the  House; 
still  he'll  be  a  heap  of  trouble — worse  nor  a  dozen  pups, 
and  no  chance  of  winning  a  prize  with  him  nohow,  or  of 
selling  him,  or  swopping  him  if  his  points  don't  turn 
out  right.  Still,  lass,  the  trouble  will  be  thine,  and  by 
the  time  he's  ten  he'll  begin  to  earn  his  grub  in  the  pit; 
so  if  thy  mind  be  set  on't,  there's  'n  end  o'  the  matter. 
Now  let's  have  tea;  I  ain't  had  a  meal  fit  for  a  dog  for 
the  last  two  days,  and  Juno  ain't  got  her  milk  regular." 

So  little  Jack  Simpson  became  a  member  of  the  Haden 
family,  and  his  father  and  mother  were  laid  to  rest  in 
the  burying-ground  on  the  hillside  above  the  village. 


FACINQ  DEATE,} 


CHAPTER  IL 

BULLDOG. 

A  CURIOUS  group  as  they  sit  staring  into  the  fire. 
Juno  and  Juno's  daughter  Bess,  brindles  both,  with  their 
underhanging  lower  jaws,  and  their  black  noses  and 
wrinkled  faces  and  Jack  Simpson,  now  six  years  old,  sit- 
ting between  them,  as  grave  and  as  immovable  as  his  sup- 
porters. One  dog  is  on  either  side  of  him  and  his  arms 
are  thrown  round  their  broad  backs.  Mrs.  Haden  is  lay- 
ing the  table  for  her  husband's  return;  she  glances  occa- 
sionally at  the  quiet  group  in  front  of  the  fire  and 
mutters  to  herself:  "I  never  did  see  such  a  child  in  all 
my  born  days." 

Presently  a  sudden  and  simultaneous  pricking  of  the 
closely-cropped  ears  of  Juno  and  Bess  proclaim  that 
among  the  many  footsteps  outside  they  have  detected 
the  tread  of  their  master. 

Jack  accepts  the  intimation  and  struggles  up  to  his 
feet  just  as  Bill  Haden  lifts  the  latch  and  enters. 

"It's  a  fine  day.  Bill,"  his  wife  said. 

"Be  it?"  the  collier  replied  in  return.  "I  took  no 
note  o't.  However,  it  doan't  rain  and  that's  all  I  cares 
for.  And  how's  the  dogs?  Did  you  give  Juno  that 
physic  ball  I  got  for  her?" 

"It's  no  manner  of  use,  Bill,  leaving  they  messes  wi' 
me.  I  ha'  tould  you  so  scores  o'  times.  She  woan't  take 
it  from  me.     She  sets  her  jaws  that  fast  that   horses 


5  FACING  DEATH. 

could  na  pull  'em  apart,  and  all  the  Wiiile  I'm  trying 
she  keeps  oop  a  growl  like  t'  organ  at  the  church. 
She's  a'  right  wi'out  the  physic,  and  well-nigh  pinned 
lirs.  Brice  when  she  came  in  to-day  to  borrow  a  flat-iron. 
She  was  that  frighted  she  skirled  out  and  well-nigh 
fainted  off.  I  had  to  send  Jack  round  to  the  'Chequers* 
for  two  o'  gin  before  she  came  round." 

"Mrs.  Brice  is  a  fool  and  j^ou're  another,"  Bill  said. 
''Now,  ooman,  just  take  off  my  boots,  for  oim  main  tired. 
"What  be  you  staring  at.  Jack?  "Were  you  nearly  pin- 
ning Mother  Brice  too?" 

"I  doan't  pin  folk,  I  doan't,"  Jack  said  sturdily.  "I 
kicks  'em,  I  do,  but  I  caught  hold  o'  Juno's  tail,  and 
held  on.  And  look  'ee  here,  dad,  I've  been  a  thinking, 
doan't  ee  lift  I  oop  by  my  ears  no  more,  not  yet.  They 
are  boath  main  sore.  I  doan't  believe  neither  Juno  nor 
Bess  would  stand  bein'  lifted  oop  by  their  ears,  not  if 
they  were  sore.  I  be  game  enough,  I  be,  but  till  my 
ears  be  well  you  must  try  some  other  part.  I  expect  the 
cheek  would  hurt  just  as  bad,  so  you  can  try  that." 

"I  do  wish.  Bill,  you  would  not  try  these  tricks  oa 
the  boy.  He's  game  enough,  and  if  you'd  ha*  seen  him 
fighting  to-day  with  Mrs.  Jackson's  Bill,  nigh  twice  aa 
big  as  himself,  you'd  ha'  said  so  too;  but  it  ain't  Chris- 
tian-like to  try  children  the  same  way  as  pups,  and  really 
his  ears  are  sore,  awful  sore.  I  chanced  t'  notice  'em 
when  I  washed  his  face  afore  he  went  to  school,  and  they 
be  main  bad,  I  tell  'ee." 

"Coom  here,"  the  miner  said  to  Jack.  "Ay,  they  ba 
sore  surely;  why  didn't  'ee  speak  afore.  Jack?  I  doan't 
want  to  hurt  'ee,  lad." 

"I  wa'n't  going  to  speak,"  Jack  said.  *'Mother 
found  it  out,  and  said  she'd  tell  'ee  o't;  but  the  last  two 
nights  I  were  well-nigh  yelping  when  'ee  took  me  up. '  * 


FACING  BEATH.  9 

"You're  a  good  plucked  'un,  Jack,"  Bill  Haden  said, 
"and  I  owt  not  t'  ha'  done  it,  but  I  didn't  think  it  hurt 
'ee,  leastways  not  more  nor  a  boy  ov/t  to  be  hurt,  to  try 
if  'ee  be  game!" 

"And  what's  you  and  t'  dogs  been  doing  to-day. 
Jack?"  the  miner  asked  as  he  began  at  his  dinner. 

"We  went  for  a  walk,  dad,  after  school,  out  in  the 
lanes;  we  saw  a  big  black  cat,  and  t'  dog.3  chased  her 
into  a  tree,  then  we  got  't  a  pond,  and  d'ye  know,  dad, 
"Bens  went  in  and  swam  about,  she  did!" 

"She  did?"  the  miner  said  sharply.  "Coom  here, 
Bess;"  and  leaving  his  meal,  he  began  anxiously  to  ex- 
amine the  bulldog's  eyes  and  listened  attentively  to  her 
breathing.  "That  were  a  rum  start  for  a  bull  too.  Jack. 
She  doan't  seem  to  ha'  taken  no  harm,  but  maybe  it 
ain't  showed  itself.  Mother,  you  give  her  some  hot  grub 
t'  night.  Doan't  you  let  her  go  in  t'  water  again.  Jack. 
"What  on  airth  made  her  tak  it  into  her  head  to  go  into 
t'  water  noo,  I  wonder?" 

"I  can't  help  it  if  she  wants  to,"  Jack  said;  "she 
doan't  mind  I,  not  when  she  doan't  want  to  mind.  I 
welted  her  t'other  day  when  she  wanted  to  go  a't  par- 
son's coo,  but  she  got  hold  o'  t'  stick  and  pulled  it  out 
o'  my  hand." 

"And  quite  raight  too,"  Bill  Haden  said;  "don't  'ee 
try  to  welt  they  dogs,  or  I'll  welt  thee!" 

"I  doan't  care,"  the  child  said  sturdily;  "if  I  goes 
out  in  charge  o'  they  dogs,  they's  got  to  mind  me,  and 
how  can  I  make  'em  mind  me  if  I  doan't  welt  'em? 
"What  would  'ee  say  to  I  if  Bess  had  got  up  afore  the 
court  for  pinning  t'  parson's  coo?" 

As  no  ready  reply  occurred  to  Bill  Haden  to  this  ques- 
tion he  returned  to  his  meal.  Juno  and  Bess  watched  him 
gravely  till  he  had  finished,  and  then,  having  each  re- 


10  FACING  DEATH. 

ceived  a  lump  of  meat  put  carefully  aside  for  them, 
returned  to  the  fire.  Jack,  curling  himself  up  beside 
them,  lay  with  his  head  on  Juno's  body  and  slept  till 
Mrs.  Haden,  having  cleared  the  table  and  washed  up  the 
things,  sent  him  out  to  play,  her  husband  having  at  the 
conclusion  of  his  meal  lighted  his  pipe  and  strolled  over 
to  the  "Chequers." 

Bill  Haden  had,  according  to  his  lights,  been  a  good 
father  to  the  child  of  his  old  mate  Simpson.  He  treated 
him  just  as  if  he  had  been  his  own.  He  spent  twopence 
a  day  less  in  beer  than  before,  and  gave  his  wife  fourteen 
pence,  in  addition  to  her  weekly  money  for  household 
expenses,  for  milk  for  the  kid,  just  as  he  allowed  two- 
pence a  day  each  for  bones  for  Juno  and  Bess.  He  also, 
when  requested  by  his  wife,  handed  over  what  sum  was 
required  for  clothing  and  shoes,  not  without  grumbling, 
however,  and  comparisious  as  to  the  wants  of  dogs  and 
boys,  eminently  unfavorable  to  the  latter.  The  weekly 
twopence  for  schooling  Mrs.  Haden  had,  during  the  year 
that  Jack  had  been  at  school,  paid  out  of  her  housekeep- 
ing money,  knowing  that  the  expenses  of  the  dogs 
afforded  no  precedent  whatever  for  such  a  charge. 

Bill  Haden  was,  howevei',  liberal  to  the  boy  in  many 
ways,  and  when  in  a  good  temper  would  often  bestow 
such  halfpence  as  he  might  have  in  his  pocket  upon  him, 
and  now  and  then  taking  him  with  him  into  town,  re- 
turned with  such  clothes  and  shoes  that  "mother"  held 
up  her  hands  at  the  extravagance. 

Among  his  young  companions  Jack  was  liked  but 
feared.  "When  he  had  money  he  would  purchase  bull's- 
eyes,  and  collecting  all  his  acquaintances,  distribute 
them  among  them;  but  he  was  somewhat  sedate  and  old- 
fashioned  in  his  ways,  from  his  close  friendships  with 
such   thoughtful  and  meditative  animals   as   Juno   and 


FACI2J0  DEATH.  11 

Bess,  and  -when  his  wrath  was  excited  he  was  terrible. 
Never  uttering  a  cry,  however  much  hurt,  he  would  fight 
with  an  obstinacy  and  determination  which  generally 
ended  by  giving  him  the  victory,  for  if  he  once  got  hold 
of  an  antagonist's  hair — pinning  coming  to  him  natur- 
ally, no  amount  of  blows  or  ill-treatment  could  force  him 
to  leave  go  until  his  agonized  opponent  confessed  him- 
self vanquished. 

It  was  not  often,  however,  that  Jack  came  in  contact 
•with  the  children  of  his  own  age.  His  duties  as  guardian 
of  the  "dorgs"  absorbed  the  greater  part  of  his  time, 
and  as  one  or  both  of  these  animals  generally  accom- 
panied him  when  he  went  beyond  the  door,  few  cared 
about  having  anything  to  say  to  him  when  so  attended ; 
for  the  guardianship  was  by  no  means  entirely  on  his 
Bide,  and  however  excellent  their  qualities  and  pure  their 
"breed,  neither  Juno  nor  Bess  were  animals  with  whom 
strangers  would  have  ventured  upon  familiarity. 

Jack's  reports  to  his  "dad"  of  Bess'  inclination  to 
attack  "f  parson's  coo"  was  not  without  effect,  although 
Bill  Haden  had  made  no  remark  at  the  time.  That, 
night,  however,  he  observed  to  his  wife:  "I've  been  a 
thinking  it  over,  Jane,  and  I  be  come  to  the  opinion  that 
it's  better  t'  boy  should  not  go  out  any  more  wi'  t'  dorgs. 
Let  'em  bide  at  home,  I'll  take  'em  oot  when  they  need 
it.  If  Bess  takes  it  into  her  head  to  pin  a  coo  there 
might  be  trouble,  an  I  doan't  want  trouble.  Her  last 
litter  o'  pups  brought  me  a  ten-pun  note,  and  if  they 
had  her  oop  at  a  court  and  swore  her  life  away  as  a 
savage  brute,  which  she  ain't  no  way,  it  would  pretty 
nigh  break  my  heart." 

The  execution  of  this,  asof  many  other  good  intentions, 
however,  was  postponed  until  an  event  happened  whicli 
led  to  Jack's  being  definitely  relieved  of  the  care  of  his 
canine  friends. 


!{{»  FACING  DEATH. 

Two  years  had  passed,  •when  one  morning  Jack  was 
calmly  strolling  along  the  road  accompanied  by  Juno  and 
Bess.  A  gig  came  rapidly  along  containing  two  young 
bagmen,  as  commercial  travelers  were  still  called  in 
Stokebridge.  The  driver,  seeing  a  child  with  two  dogs, 
conceived  that  this  was  a  favorable  opportunity  for  a  dis- 
play of  that  sense  of  playful  humor  whose  point  lies  in 
the  infliction  of  pain  on  others,  without  any  danger  of 
personal  consequences  to  the  inflictor. 

With  a  sharp  sweep  he  brought  down  his  whip  across 
Jack's  back,  managing  to  include  Bess  in  the  stroke. 

Jack  set  up  a  shout  of  mingled  pain  and  indignation, 
and  stooping  for  a  stone  hurled  it  after  the  man  who  had 
struck  him.  Bess'  response  to  the  assault  upon  her  was 
silent,  but  as  prompt  and  far  more  effectual.  With  two 
springs  she  was  beside  the  horse,  and  leaping  up  caught 
it  by  the  nostrils  and  dragged  it  to  the  ground. 

Juno  at  once  joined  in  the  fray,  and  made  desperate 
attempts  to  climb  into  the  gig  and  seize  its  inmates,  who 
had  nearly  been  thrown  out  as  the  horse  fell. 

Eecovering  himself,  the  driver,  pale  with  terroi', 
clubbed  his  whip,  and  struck  at  Juno  with  the  butt-end 

"Don't  'ee  hit  her,"  Jack  cried  as  he  arrived  on  11.9 
spot;  "if  thou  dost  she'll  tear  'ee  limb  from  limb," 

"Call  the  brute  off,  you  little  rascal,"  cried  the  olhti ; 
"it's  killing  the  horse." 

"Thou'd  best  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  thy  head,"  tha 
child  said  coolly,  "or  it  will  be  bad  for  'ee.  What  did 
'ee  hit  I  and  Bess  for?  It  would  serve  'ee  roight  if  si. a 
had  panned  *ee  instead  o'  t'  horse." 

"Call  them  off,"  the  fellow  shouted  as  Juno's  tesij 
Biet  in  close  proximity  to  his  leg. 

"It  be  all  very  well  to  say  call  'em  orf, "  Jack  said, 
"but  they  doan't  moind  I  much.     Have  *ee  got  a  strap?" 


FACING  DEATH.  13 

The  man  hastily  threw  down  a  strap,  and  this  Jack 
passed  through  Juno's  collar,  she  being  too  absorbed  in 
her  efforts  to  climb  into  the  gig  to  heed  what  the  child 
was  doing;  then  he  buckled  it  to  the  wheel. 

"Noo,"  he  said,  "ye  can  light  down  t'  other  side. 
She  caan't  reach  'ee  there." 

The  young  men  leaped  down,  and  ran  to  the  head  of 
the  horse ;  the  poor  brute  was  making  frantic  efforts  to 
rise,  but  the  bulldog  held  him  down  with  her  whole 
might. 

Jack  shouted  and  pulled,  but  in  vain;  Bess  paid  no 
attention  to  his  voice. 

"Can  you  bite  his  tail?"  one  of  the  frightened  men 
said;  "I've  heard  that  is  good." 

"Boite  her  tail!"  Jack  said  in  contempt;  "doan'tyer 
see  she's  a  full-bred  un;  ye  moight  boite  her  tail  off, 
and  she  would  care  nowt  about  't.  I've  got  summat  here 
that  may  do. ' ' 

He  drew  out  a  twisted  paper  from  his  pocket. 

"This  is  snuff,"  he  said;  "if  owt  will  make  her  loose, 
this  will.  Now,  one  o'  yer  take  holt  by  her  collar  on 
each  side,  and  hoult  tight,  yer  know,  or  she'll  pin  ye 
when  she  leaves  go  o'  the  horse.  Then  when  she  sneezes 
you  pull  her  orf,  and  hoult  fast."         ^ 

The  fear  of  the  men  that  the  horse  would  be  killed 
overpowered  their  dread  of  the  dog,  and  each  took  a  firm 
grip  upon  its  collar.  Then  Jack  placed  a  large  pinch  of 
snuff  to  its  nostrils.  A  minute  later  it  took  effect,  the 
iron  jaws  unclosed  with  a  snap,  and  in  an  instant  Bess 
was  snatched  away  from  the  horse,  which,  delivered  from 
its  terrible  foe,  sank  back  groaning  on  the  road.  Bess 
made  the  most  furious  attempts  to  free  herself  from  her 
captors,  but  in  vain,  and  Juno  strained  desperately  at 
the  strap  to  come  to  the  assistance  of  her  offspring. 


14  FACING  DEATH. 

"Ha'  ye  got  another  strap?"  Jack  asked. 

"There's  a  chain  in  the  box  under  the  seat." 

Jack  with  some  difficulty  and  an  amount  of  delibera- 
tion for  which  the  men  could  gladly  have  slain  him, 
climbed  up  into  the  gig,  and  presently  came  back  with 
the  chain. 

"Noo  tak'  her  round  to  t'  other  side  o'  gig,"  he  said; 
"we'll  fasten  her  just  as  Juno  is." 

When  Bess  was  securely  chained  to  the  wheel  the  men 
ran  to  raise  the  horse,  who  lay  with  its  head  in  a  pool  of 
blood. 

"There's  a  pond  in  yon  field,"  Jack  said,  "if  'ee  wants 
water. ' ' 

After  Bess  was  secured  Jack  had  slipped  round  to 
Juno,  and  kept  his  hand  upon  the  buckle  in  readiness  to 
loose  her  should  any  attempt  be  made  upon  his  personal 
safety.  The  men,  however,  were  for  the  moment  too 
scared  to  think  of  him.  It  was  some  time  before  the 
horse  was  got  on  to  its  legs,  with  a  wet  cloth  wrapped 
round  its  bleeding  wound.  Fortunately  Bess'  grip  had 
included  the  bit-strap  as  well  as  the  nostrils,  and  this 
had  somewhat  lessened  the  serious  nature  of  the  hurt. 

Jack  had  by  this  time  pacified  the  dogs,  and  when  the 
men  looked  around,  after  getting  the  horse  on  to  its  legs, 
they  were  alarmed  to  see  him  standing  by  quietly  hold- 
ing the  dogs  by  a  strap  passing  through  their  collar. 

"Doan't  'ee  try  to  get  into  that  ere  cart, "  he  said ; 
"you've  got  to  go  wi'  me  back  to  Stokebridge  to  t'  lock- 
oop  for  hitting  I  and  Bess.  Now  do  you  walk  quietly 
back  and  lead  t'  horse,  and  oi'll  walk  beside  'ee,  and  it 
thou  mov'st,  or  tries  to  get  away,  oi'll  slip  t'  dogs,  yoa 
see  if  I  doan't." 

"You  little  villain,"  began  one  of  the  men  furiously, 
but  a  deep  growl  from  Bess  in  reply  to  the  angry  tone  at 


FACING  DEATH,  13 

once  silenced  him ;  and  burning  with  rage  they  turned 
the  horse's  head  back  toAvard  the  village  and  walked  on, 
accompanied  by  Jack  and  his  dogs  on  guard. 

The  ai-rival  of  this  procession  created  much  excite- 
ment, and  a  crowd  of  women  and  children  soon  gathered. 
Jack,  however,  serenely  indifferent  to  questions  and 
shouts,  proceeded  coolly  on  his  way  until  he  arrived  at 
the  residence  of  the  local  constable,  who,  hearing  tbo 
din,  appeared  at  his  door. 

"Maister  Johnson,"  the  child  says,  "I  give  them  chaps 
in  charge  for  saulting  I  and  Bess. ' ' 

"And  we  give  this  little  ruffian  in  charge, "  shouted 
the  men,  secure  that,  in  face  of  the  constable  and  crowtl, 
Jack  could  not  loose  his  terrible  bulldogs,  "for  setting 
his  dogs  at  us,  to  the  risk  of  our  lives  and  the  injury-  of 
our  horse,  which  is  so  much  hurt  that  we  believe  it  will 
have  to  be  killed." 

Just  at  this  moment  Bill  Haden — who  had  retv.rned 
from  work  at  the  moment  that  a  boy  running  in  reported 
that  there  was  a  row,  that  a  horse  was  covered  wi'  blood, 
and  two  chaps  all  bluidy  over  t'  hands  and  clothes,  were 
going  along  wi'  Jack  and  t'  dorgs  oop  street  to  lock-oop 
— arrived  upon  the  spot. 

"What's  oop,  lad?"  he. asked  as  he  came  up. 

"They  chaps  hit  I  and  Bess,  dad,  and  Bess  pinned  t' 
horse,  and  Juno  would  ha'  pinned  'em  boath  hadn't  I 
strapped  she  oop,  and  then  we  got  Bess  orf,  and  I 
brought  'em  back  to  t'  lock-oop. " 

"How  dar  'ee  hit  my  lad?"  Bill  Haden  said  angrily, 
stepping  forward  threateningly. 

"Look  oot,  dad,  or  t'  dorga  will  be  at  'em  again," 
Jack  shouted. 

Bill  seized  the  strap  from  the  child's  hand,  and  with  a 
stern  word  silenced  the  dogs. 


16  FACING  DEATH, 

"Well,"  the  constable  said,  "I  can't  do  no"wt  but 
bring  both  parties  afore  Mr.  Brook  i*  the  morning.  I 
suppose  I  needn't  lock  'ee  all  oop.  Bill,  will  you  bind 
yoxirself  to  produce  Jack  Simpson  t'morrow?" 

"Ay,"  said  Bill,  "oi'll  produce  him,  and  he'll  pro- 
duce hisself,  I'm  thinking;  seems  to  me  as  Jack  be  able 
to  take  's  own  part. ' ' 

This  sally  was  received  with  laughter  and  applause, 
for  local  feeling  was  very  strong  in  Stokebridge,  and  ^ 
etoi-m  of  cheers  and  rough  chaff  were  poured  upon  the 
bagmen  for  having  been  brought  in  prisoners  by  a  child. 

"Thee'd  best  get  away  to  th'  inn,"  the  constable  said, 
"else  they'll  be  a  stoaning  thee  next.  There  be  only 
two  on  us  here,  and  if  they  takes  to  't  we  shan't  be  ab'o 
to  do  much." 

So  the  men,  leading  their  horse,  went  off  to  the  inn, 
groaned  and  hooted  at  by  the  crowd  on  the  way.  On 
their  arrival  a  messenger  was  at  once  sent  off  for  a 
veterinarj'  surgeon  who  resided  some  four  miles  away. 

On  the  following  morning  the  parties  to  the  quarrel, 
the  two  bagmen  and  the  injured  horse  on  the  one  Iiand, 
and  Jack  Simpson  with  the  two  bulldogs  under  charge 
of  Bill  Haden  on  the  other,  appeared  before  Mr.  Brook, 
owner  of  the  Vaughan  pit  and  a  county  magistrate. 

Jack  first  gave  his  account  of  the  transaction,  clearly 
and  with  much  decision. 

"I  war  a  walking  along  quiet  wi*  t'  dogs,"  he  sakl, 
"when  I  hears  a  cart  a  coming  from  Stokebridge.  I 
looks  round  and  seed  they  two  chaps,  but  didn't  mind 
no  further  abovit  it  till  aa  they  came  oop  that  sandy- 
haired  chap  as  was  a  driving  lets  me  and  Bess  ha'  one 
which  made  me  joomp,  I  can  tell  'ee.  Bess  she  pinned 
the  horse,  and  Juno  she  tried  to  get  into  t '  cart  at  'em. 
They  were   joost   frighted,  they  hollers  and  yawps,  and 


FACING  DEATH.  Vf 

looks  as  wlaite  as  may  be.  I  fastens  Juno  oop  wi*  a  strap 
and  they  houlcls  Bess  while  I  put  some  snoof  t*  her  nose/' 

"Put  what?"  Mr.  Brook  asked. 

"Joost  a  pinch  of  snoof,  sir.  I  heard  feyther  say  aa 
tinoof  would  make  dogs  loose,  and  so  I  bought  a  haporth 
and  carried  it  in  my  pocket,  for  th'  dogs  don't  moind  oi 
when  they  are  put  oot.  And  then  they  gets  horse  oop 
and  I  makes  'em  come  back  to  t'  lock-oop,  but  Maister 
Johnson,"  he  said,  looking  reproachfully  at  the  consta- 
ble, "wouldn't  lock  'em  oop  as  I  wanted  him." 

There  was  some  laughter  among  the  audience,  and 
even  the  magistrate  smiled.  The  young  men  then  gave 
their  story.  They  denied  point  blank  that  either  of  them 
had  struck  Jack,  and  described  him  as  having  set  his 
dog  purposely  on  the  horse.  Jack  had  loudly  contra- 
dicted them,  shouting,  "That's  a  lee;"  but  had  been 
ordered  to  silence.  Then  drawing  back  he  slipped  off 
his  jacket  and  shirt,  and  when  the  evidence  was  closed 
he  marched  forwai'd  up  to  the  magistrate  bare  to  the 
waist. 

"Look  at  moi  back,"  he  said;  "that  'uU  speak  for 
itself. ' ' 

It  did;  there  was  a  red  weal  across  the  shoulder,  and 
an  angry  hiss  ran  through  the  court  at  the  prisoners, 
which  was  with  considerable  difficulty  suppressed. 

"After  what  I  have  seen,"  Mr.  Brook  said,  "there  is 
no  doubt  whatever  in  my  mind  that  the  version  given  by 
this  child  is  the  correct  one,  and  that  you  committed  u 
cowardly  and  unprovoked  assault  upon  him.  For  thia 
you,"  he  said  to  the  man  who  had  driven  the  horse, 
"are  fined  twenty -five  dollars  or  a  month's  imprison- 
ment. It  is  a  good  thing  that  cowardly  fellows  like  you 
should  be  punished  occasionally,  and  had  it  not  been 
that  your  horse  had  been  severely  injured  I  should  havo 


18  FACING  DEATH. 

committed  you  to  prisoA  without  option  of  a  fine. 
Against  you,"  he  said  to  the  other,  "there  is  no  evidence 
of  assault.  The  charge  against  the  child  is  dismissed, 
but  it  is  for  the  father  to  consider  whether  he  will  prose- 
cute you  for  perjury.  At  the  same  time  I  think  that 
dogs  of  this  powerful  and  ferocious  kind  ought  not  to  be 
allowed  to  go  out  under  the  charge  of  a  child  like  this." 

The  man  paid  the  fine;  but  so  great  was  the  indigna- 
tion of  the  crowd  that  the  constable  had  to  escort  thera 
to  the  railway  station;  in  spite  of  this  they  were  so  pelted 
and  hustled  on  the  way  that  they  were  miserable  figures 
indeed  when  they  arrived  there. 

And  so  Jack  was  released  from  all  charge  of  the  "dorgs," 
and  benefited  by  the  change.  New  friendships  for  chil- 
dren of  his  own  age  took  the  place  of  that  for  the  dogs, 
and  he  soon  took  part  in  their  games,  and  from  the 
energy  and  violence  with  which,  when  once  excited,  he 
threw  himself  into  them,  became  quite  a  popular  leader. 
Mrs.  Haden  rejoiced  over  the  change;  for  he  was  now 
far  more  lively  and  more  like  other  children  than  he  had 
been,  although  still  generally  silent  except  when  ad- 
dressed by  her  and  drawn  into  talk.  He  was  as  fond  as 
ever  of  the  dogs,  but  that  fondness  was  now  a  part  only 
instead  of  the  dominating  passion  of  his  existence.  And 
BO  months  after  months  went  on  and  no  event  of  import- 
ance occurred  to  alter  the  current  of  Jack  Simpson's  life. 


FACING  DEAia.  19 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  RESOLUTION. 

An  artist  sitting  in  the  shade  under  a  tree,  painting  a 
bit  of  rustic  gate  and  a  lane  bright  with  many  honey- 
suckles. Presently  he  is  conscious  of  a  movement  be- 
hind him,  and  looking  round,  sees  a  sturdily -built  boy 
of  some  ten  years  of  age,  with  an  old  bulldog  lying  at 
his  feet,  and  another  standing  by  his  side  watching  him. 

"Well,  lad,  what  are  you  doing?" 

"Nowt!"  said  the  boy  promptly. 

"I  mean,"  the  artist  said  with  a  smile,  "have  you  any- 
thing to  do  ?  if  not,  I  will  give  you  sixpence  to  sit  still 
on  that  gate  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.     I  want  a  figure." 

The  boy  nodded,  took  his  seat  without  a  word,  and 
remained  perfectly  quiet  while  the  artist  sketched  him  in. 

"That  will  do  for  the  present,"  the  artist  said.  "You 
can  come  and  sit  down  here  and  look  at  me  at  work  if  you 
like;  but  if  you  have  nothing  to  do  for  an  hour,  don't 
go  away,  as  I  shall  want  you  again  presently.  Here  is 
the  sixpence;  you  will  have  another  if  you'll  wait. 
"What's  your  name?"  he  went  on,  as  the  boy  threw  him- 
self down  on  the  grass,  with  his  head  propped  up  on  his 
elbows. 

"Bulldog,"  the  lad  said  promptly;  and  then  coloriag 
tip,  added  "at  least  they  call  me  Bulldog,  but  my  right 
name  be  Jack  Simpson." 

"And  why  do  they  call  you  Bulldog,  Jack?" 

The  artist  had  a  sympathetic  voice  and  spoke  in  tones 
of  interest,  and  the  lad  aswered  frankly : 


20  FACma  DEATH. 

"Mother — that  is,  my  real  mother — she  died  when  I 
were  a  little  kid,  and  Juno  here,  she  had  pups  at  the  time 
— not  that  one,  she's  Flora,  three  years  old  she  be — and 
they  used  to  pretend  she  suckled  me.  It  hain't  likely,  be 
it?"  he  asked,  as  if  after  all  he  was  not  quite  sure  about 
it  himself.  "Schoolmaster  says  as  how  it's  writ  that 
there  was  once  two  little  rum  'uns,  suckled  by  a  wolf,  but 
he  can't  say  for  sure  that  it's  true.  Mother  says  it's  all 
a  lie,  she  fed  me  from  a  bottle.  But  they  called  me 
Bulldog  from  that,  and  because  Juno  and  me  always 
went  about  together;  and  now  they  call  me  so  because," 
and  he  laughed^  "I  take  a  good  lot  of  licking  before  I 
gives  in." 

"You've  been  to  school,  I  suppose,  Jack?" 

"Yes,  I've  had  five  years' schooling, "  the  boy  said 
carelessly. 

"And  do  you  like  it?" 

"I  liked  it  well  enough;  I  learned  pretty  easy,  and  so 
'scaped  many  hidings.  Dad  says  it  was  cos  my  mother 
were  a  schoolmaster's  daughter  afore  she  married  my 
father,  and  so  learning's  in  the  blood,  and  comes  natural. 
But  I'm  done  with  school  now,  and  am  going  down  the 
pit  next  week." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  there?  You  are  too  young 
for  work," 

"Oh,  I  shan't  have  no  work  to  do  in  t'  pit,  not  hard 
work — just  to  open  and  shut  a  door  when  the  tubs  go 
through."  • 

"You  mean  the  coal-wagons?" 

"Ay,  the  tubs,"  the  boy  said.  "Then  in  a  j'ear  or 
i'vo  I  shall  get  to  be  a  butty,  that  ull  be  better  pay; 
iaen  I  shall  help  dad  in  his  stall,  and  at  last  I  shall  be 
en  full  wages." 

"And  after  that?"  the  artist  asked. 

The  lad  looked  puzzled. 


FACING  DEATh.  31 

**What  will  you  look  forward  to  after  that?" 

*'I  don't  know  that  there's  nowt  else,"  the  boy  said, 
''except  perhaps  some  day  I  might,  perhaps — but  it  ain't 
likely — but  I  might  get  to  be  a  viewer. " 

"But  why  don't  you  make  up  your  mind  to  be  some- 
thing better  still.  Jack — a  manager?" 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  boy  incredulously;  "a  mana- 
ger, like  Fenton,  who  lives  in  that  big  house  on  the  hill! 
Why,  he's  a  gentleman." 

"Jack,"  the  artist  said,  stopping  in  his  work  now,  and 
speaking  very  earnestly,  "there  is  not  a  lad  of  your  age 
in  the  land,  brought  up  as  a  miner,  or  a  mechanic,  or  an 
artisan,  who  may  not,  if  he  sets  it  before  him,  and  gives 
his  whole  mind  to  it,  end  b3'  being  a  rich  man  and  a 
gentleman.  If  a  lad  from  the  first  makes  up  his  mind  to 
three  things — to  work,  to  save,  and  to  learn — he  can  rise 
in  the  world.  You  won't  be  able  to  save  out  of  what 
you  get  at  first,  but  you  can  learn  when  your  work  is 
done.  You  can  read  and  study  of  an  evening.  Then 
when  you  get  better  wages,  save  something;  when,  at 
twenty-one  or  so,  you  get  man's  wages,  live  on  less  than 
half,  and  lay  by  the  rest.  Don't  marry  until  you're 
thirty ;  keep  away  from  the  public  house ;  work,  study 
steadily  and  intelligently;  and  by  the  time  you  are 
thirty  you  will  have  a  thousand  pounds  laid  by,  and  ba 
Lj  to  take  a  manager's  place." 

"Do'st  mean  that,  sir?"  the  boy  asked  quickly. 

"I  do.  Jack.  My  case  is  something  like  it.  My 
father  was  a  village  schoolmaster.  I  went  when  about 
twelve  years  old  to  a  pottery  at  Burslem.  My  father 
told  me  pretty  well  what  I  have  told  you.  I  determined 
to  try  hard  at  any  rate.  I  worked  in  every  spare  hoiu' 
to  improve  myself  generally,  and  I  went  three  eveninr.  ■ 
a  week  to  the  art  school.     I  liked  it,  and  the  master  tcl  I 


23  FACING  DEATH. 

me  if  I  stuck  to  it  I  might  be  a  painter  some  day.  I 
did  stick  to  it,  and  at  twenty  could  paint  well  enough  to 
go  into  that  branch  of  pottery.  I  stuck  to  it,  and  at 
twenty -five  was  getting  as  high  pay  as  any  one  in  Bur- 
slem,  except  one  or  two  foreign  artists.  I  am  thirty 
now.  I  still  paint  at  times  on  china,  but  I  am  now  get- 
ting well  known  as  an  artist,  and  am,  I  hope,  a  gentle- 
man." 

"I'll  do  it,"  the  boy  said,  rising  slowly  to  his  feet  and 
coming  close  to  the  artist.  "I'll  do  it,  sir.  They  call 
me  Bulldog,  and  I'll  stick  to  it." 

"Very  well,"  the  artist  said,  holding  out  his  hand; 
"that's  a  bargain,  Jack." 

"Now,  give  me  your  name  and  address;  here  are  mine. 
It's  the  1st  of  June  to-day.  Now  perhaps  it  will  help 
you  a  little  if  I  write  to  you  on  the  1st  of  June  every 
year ;  and  you  shall  answer  me,  telling  me  how  you  are 
getting  on,  and  whether  I  can  in  any  way  give  you  help 
or  advice.  If  I  don't  get  an  answer  from  you,  I  shall 
suppose  that  you  have  got  tired  of  it  and  have  given  it 
up." 

"Don't  you  never  go  to  suppose  that,  sir,"  the  boy 
said  earnestly.  "If  thou  doesn't  get  an  answer  thou'lfc 
know  that  I've  been  killed,  as  father  was,  in  a  fall  or  an 
explosion.  Thank  you,  sir."  And  the  boy  walked 
quietly  off,  with  the  old  bulldog  lazily  waddling  behind 
him. 

"There  are  the  makings  of  a  man  in  that  boy,"  the 
artist  said  to  himself.  "I  wish  though  I  had  finished 
his  figure  before  we  began  to  talk  about  his  plans  for  the 
future.  I  shall  be  very  proud  of  that  boy  if  he  ever 
makes  a  name  for  himself." 

That  evening  Jack  sat  on  a  low  stool  and  gazed  into 
the  fire  so  steadily  and  silently  that  Bill  Haden,  albeit 
iiot  given  to  observe  his  moods,  asked; 


FACING  DEATH.  S3 

'"What  ail'st,  lad?     What  be'st  tliinkin'  o'?** 

Jack's  thoughts  were  so  deep  that  it  took  him  some 
time  to  shake  them  off  and  to  turn  upon  his  stool. 

"Oi'm  thinking  o'  getting  laming." 

"Thinking  o'  getting  larning!"  the  miner  repeated  in 
astonishment,  "why  'ee  be  just  a  dun  o'  getting  larn- 
ing. 'Ee  ha'  been  at  it  for  the  last  foive  year,  lad,  and 
noo  thou'st  going  to  be  done  wi'  it  and  to  work  in  the 
pit." 

"Oi'm  a  going  to  work  in  the  pit,  dad,  and  oi'm  a 
gwine  to  get  larning  too.  Oi've  made  oop  my  mind,  and 
oi'm  gwine  to  do  it." 

"But  bain't  'e»  got  learning?"  the  miner  said. 
**Thou  canst  read  and  write  foine,  which  is  more  nor  I 
can  do,  and  what  dost  want  more?" 

"Oi'm  a  going  to  get  larning, "  Jack  said  again,  stead- 
ily repeating  the  formula,  "and  oi'm  gwine  soom  day  to 
be  a  manager." 

Bill  Haden  stared  at  the  boy  and  then  burst  into  a  fit 
of  laughter.     "Well,  this  bangs  a'." 

Mrs.  Haden  was  as  surprised,  but  more  sympathetic. 

"Bless  the  boy,  what  hast  got  in  your  head  now?" 

Jack  showed  not  the  slightest  sign  of  discomfiture  at 
his  father's  laughter. 

"I  met  a  chap  to-day, "  he  said  in  answer  to  Mrs. 
Haden,  "as  told  I  that  if  I  made  up  my  moind  to  work 
and  joost  stuck  to  't,  I  could  surely  make  a  man  o'  my- 
self, and  might  even  roise  soom  day  to  be  a  manager; 
and  I'm  a  going  to  do  it." 

"Doan't  'ee  say  a  word  to  check  the  boy.  Bill,"  Mrs. 
Haden  said  to  her  husband,  as  he  was  about  to  burst  ouj 
into  jeering  remarks.  "I  tell  'ee,  what  Jack  says  ha 
sticks  to,  and  you  oughter  know  that  by  this  time,  Whr  i 
the  man,  whos'ever  he  might  be,  said,  was  right,  Jack,'* 


24  FACma  DEATH. 

she  went  on,  turning  to  the  boy.  "Laming  is  a  grea'j 
thing.  So  far  you  ain't  showed  any  turn  for  iarning. 
Jack,  as  I  ever  seed,  but  if  you  get  it  you  may  raise 
jourself  to  be  an  overman  or  a  viewer,  though  I  doan't 
say  a  manager;  that  seems  too  far  away  altogether.  If 
you  stick  to  what  you  say  you  may  do  it,  Jack.  I  can't 
help  you  in  laming,  for  I  ain't  got  none  myself,  but  if  I 
can  help  you  in  any  other  way  I  'ull,  and  so  'ull  feyther, 
though  he  does  laugh  a  bit." 

"He  be  roight  enough  to  laugh,"  Jack  said,  ''for  I 
hain't  had  any  turn  that  way.  I  doant  know  as  I  ha* 
now,  but  I'm  a  going  to  try,  and  if  trying  can  do  it,"  he 
said  in  his  steady  tones,  "oi'll  do  it.  1  think  I  ha'  got 
some  o'  the  bulldog  strain  in  me,  and  I'll  hoult  on  to  it 
as  Bess  would  hoult  on  to  a  man's  throat  if  she  pinned 
him." 

"I  know  you  will,  my  lad,"  Mrs.  Haden  said,  while 
her  husband,  lighting  his  pipe  and  turning  to  go  out 
said: 

"It  matters  nowt  to  me  one  way  or  t'other,  but  moind, 
lad,  laming  or  no  Iarning,  thou'st  got  to  go  into  the  pit 
next  week  and  arn  your  living." 

"Jack,"  Mrs.  Haden  said  presently,  "dost  know  I 
wouldn't  do  nowt  wi'  this  new  fancy  o'  thine,  not  till 
arter  thou's  a  been  to  work  i'  the  pit  for  awhile;  a 
week  or  two  will  make  no  differ  to  'ee,  and  thou  doan't 
know  yet  how  tired  ye'll  be  when  ye  coom  oop  nor  how 
thou'lt  long  for  the  air  and  play  wi'  lads  o'  thy  own  age. 
I  believe.  Jack,  quite  believe  that  thou  be'st  in  arnest 
on  it,  and  I  know  well  that  when  thou  dost  begin  thou'lt 
stick  to  't.  But  it  were  better  to  wait  till  thou  know'st 
what  'tis  thou  art  undertaking." 

Jack  felt  that  there  was  a  good  deal  in  what  his  mother 
said.  "Very  well,  mother.  'Twant  make  no  diflEer  to 
me,  but  oi'll  do  as  th'  asks  me." 


FAOma  BEATS, 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE     VAUGHAN     PIT. 

Among  the  group  of  men  and  boys  assembled  round  the 
mouth  of  the  Vaughan  pit  on  the  7th  of  June  were  two 
little  lads,  Jack  Simpson  and  Harry  Shepherd,  who  were 
to  make  the  descent  for  the  first  time.  The  boys  were 
fast  friends.  Harry  was  the  taller  but  was  slighter  than 
Jack,  and  far  less  sturdy  and  strong.  Both  were  glad 
that  they  were  to  go  into  the  pit,  for  although  the  life  of 
a  gate-boy  is  dull  and  monotonous,  yet  in  the  pit  villages 
the  boys  look  forward  to  it  as  marking  the  first  step  in  a 
man's  life,  as  putting  school  and  lessons  behind,  and  as 
raising  them  to  a  position  far  in  advance  of  their  former 
associates. 

Nowadays  the  law  has  stepped  in,  and  the  employment 
of  such  mere  children  in  the  mines  is  forbidden,  but  at 
that  time  it  had  not  been  changed,  and  if  a  boy  was  big 
enough  to  shut  a  door  he  was  big  enough  to  go  into  a 
mine. 

"Dost  feel  skeary.  Jack?"  Harry  asked. 

"Noa, '■'  Jack  said;  "what  be  there  to  be  skeary  aboot? 
I  bean't  afeard  of  the  dark,  and  they  say  in  time  'ee  get 
used  to  it,  and  can  see  prettj--  nigh  loike  a  cat.  There 
be  dad  a  calling.    Good-by  Harry,  I'll  see  thee  to-night. " 

The  yard  of  the  Vaughan  resembled  that  of  other  large 
collieries.  It  was  a  large  space,  black  and  grimy,  on 
which  lines  of  rails  were  laid  down  in  all  directions;  on 
these  stood  trains  of  wagons,  while  here  and  there  were 


26  FACING  DEATH. 

great  piles  of  coal.  In  the  center  rose  up  a  lofty  scaffold- 
ing of  massive  beams.  At  the  top  of  this  was  the  wheel 
over  which  a  strong  wire  rope  or  band  ran  to  the  wind- 
ing engine  close  by,  while  from  the  other  end  hung  ths 
cage,  a  wooden  box  some  six  feet  square.  At  the  corner 
of  this  box  were  clips  or  runners  which  fitted  on  to  the 
guides  in  the  shaft  and  so  prevented  any  motion  of 
swinging  or  swaying.  So  smoothly  do  these  cages  work 
that,  standing  in  one  as  it  is  lowered  or  drawn  up,  only 
a  very  slight  vibration  or  tremor  tells  that  you  are  in 
motion.  Near  the  square  house  in  which  stood  the 
winding  engine  was  another  precisely  similar  occupied 
by  the  pumping  engine. 

The  Yaughau  was  worked  by  a  single  shaft  divided  by 
a  strong  wooden  partition  into  two,  one  of  these  known 
as  the  downcast  shaft,  that  is,  the  shaft  through  which 
the  air  descends  into  the  mine,  the  other  the  upcast, 
through  which  the  current,  having  made  its  way  through 
all  the  windings  and  turnings  of  the  roadways  belovv, 
again  ascends  to  the  surface.  This  system  of  working 
by  a  single  shaft,  however,  is  very  dangerous,  as,  in  the 
event  of  an  explosion,  both  shafts  may  become  involved 
in  the  disaster  and  there  will  be  no  means  of  getting  afa 
the  imprisoned  miners.  Nowadays  all  well-regulated 
mines  have  two  shafts,  one  at  a  distance  from  the  other, 
but  this  was  less  common  thirty  years  back,  and  tha 
Vaughan,  like  most  of  its  neighbors,  was  worked  with  a 
single  shaft. 

Each  miner  before  descending  went  to  the  lamp-room 
and  received  a  lighted  "Davy."  As  almost  every  one  \i 
aware,  the  principle  of  this  lamp,  and  indeed  of  all  thi\^ 
have  since  been  invented,  is  that  flame  will  not  pas-i 
through  a  close  wire-gauze.  The  lamp  is  surrounded 
■with  this  gauze,  and  although^  should  the  air  be  tilled 


FACING  DEATH.  27 

with  gas  to  an  explosive  point,  it  will  ignite  if  it  comes 
in  contact  with  flame,  the  gauze  prevents  the  light  of  tho 
lamp  from  exploding  the  gas-chai'ged  air  outside.  "When 
the  air  is  of  a  very  explosive  character  even  the  Davy- 
lamps  have  to  be  extinguished,  as  the  heat  caused  by  the 
frequent  ignitions  within  the  lamp  raises  the  gauze  to  a 
red  heat,  and  the  gas  bej'ond  will  take  fire. 

Jack  took  his  place  in  the  cage  with  Bill  Haden  and  aa 
many  others  as  it  could  contain.  He  gave  a  little  start 
as  he  felt  a  sudden  sinking;  the  sides  of  the  shaft  seemed 
to  shoot  up  all  round  him,  wet,  shining,  and  black,  A 
few  seconds  and  the  light  of  day  had  vanished,  and  thej-- 
were  in  darkness,  save  that  overhead  was  a  square  blue 
patch  of  sky  every  moment  diminishing  in  size. 

"Be'st  afeard,  Jack?"  Bill  Haden  asked,  raising  hia 
lamp  so  as  to  get  a  sight  of  the  boy's  face. 

"Noa,  why  should  I?"  Jack  said;  "I  heard  'ee  say 
that  the  ropes  were  new  last  month,  so  there  ain't  nothing 
to  be  afeard  on!" 

"That  is  the  young  un  they  call  Bulldog,  ain't  it. 
Bill?" 

"Ay!"  Bill  Haden  answered;  "he's  game,  he  is;  you 
can't  make  him  yelp.  I've  licked  him  till  I  was  tired, 
but  he  never  whimpered.  Now  then,  out  you  go;"  and 
as  the  cage  stopped  the  men  all  stepped  out  and  started 
for  the  places  in  which  they  were  workin  g. 

"Coom  along.  Jack;  the  viewer  told  me  to  put  3'ou  at 
No.  10  gate." 

It  was  ten  minutes  fast — and  as  Jack  thought,  very 
unpleasant — walking.  The  sleepers  on  which  the  rails 
for  the  corves,  or  little  wagons,  were  laid,  were  very 
slipperj'.  Pools  of  water  stood  between  them  and  often 
covered  them,  and  blocks  of  coal  of  all  sizes,  which  had 
shaken  from  the  corves,  lay   in  the  road.     When  it  waa 


28  WAGING  DEATH. 

not  water  it  ,vas  black  mud.  Sometimes  a  line  of  wagons 
full  or  emptj'  stood  on  the  rails,  and  to  pass  these  they 
had  to  squeeze  against  the  damp  wails.  Before  he 
reached  his  post  the  gloss  of  Jack's  new  mining  clothes 
had  departed  forever.  The  white  jumper  was  covered 
with  black  smears,  and  two  or  three  fails  on  the  slippery- 
wooden  sleepers  had  effectively  blackened  his  canvas 
trousers. 

"There,  lad,"  Bill  Haden  said  at  length,  holding  hia 
lamp  high  to  afford  a  general  view  of  the  situation; 
"that's  your  place." 

"The  place"  was  a  hollow  like  a  cupboard,  some  five 
feet  high,  two  deep,  and  a  little  wider.  There  was  a 
wooden  seat  in  it,  a  peg  or  two  had  been  driven  into  the 
rock  to  hang  things  from,  and  a  handful  or  so  of  hay 
upon  the  ground  showed  that  Jack's  pi'edecessor  had  an 
idea  of  comfort. 

"There  you  are,  and  not  a  bad  place  either.  Jack. 
You  see  this  cord?  Now,  when  thou  hear'st  a  team  of 
corves  coming  along,  pull  yon  end  and  open  the  door. 
"When  they  have  passed  let  go  the  cord  and  the  door 
shuts  o*  'tself,  for  it's  got  a  weight  and  pulley.  It's  thy 
business  to  see  that  it  has  shut,  for  if  a  chunk  of  coal  has 
happened  to  fall  and  stops  the  door  from  shutting,  the 
ventilation  goes  wrong  and  we  all  goes  to  kingdom  coma 
in  no  time.  That's  all  thou'st  got  to  do  'cept  to  keep 
awake.  Of  course  youwoan't  do  that;  no  boy  does.  So 
that  you  larn  to  wake  up  when  the  corves  come  along, 
that  ull  do  foine. " 

"But  if  I  don't?"  Jack  asked. 

"Well,  if  thou  doan't  thou'it  get  waked  with  a  cuff  o' 
th'  ear  by  the  driver,  and  it  depends  on  what  sort  o' 
chap  he  be  how  hard  the  cuff  thou'it  get.  I  doan't  think 
thou'it  feel  lonely  here,  for  along  that  side  road  they 


FACING  DEATH.  29 

l:Ting  down  other  corves  and  the  horse  comes  and  takes 
cm  on.  On  this  main  road  the  horses  go  through  to 
the  upper  end  of  the  mine,  half  a  mile  further." 

"How  do  it  make  a  differ  whether  this  door  be  open  or 
fcniit,  father?" 

'  •  Well,  lad,  the  air  comes  up  the  road  we  ha  come  by. 
ll-jw  it's  wanted  to  go  round  about  by  the  workings  on 
Ijat  side  road.  This  door  be  put  to  stop  it  from  going 
].,v  the  straight  road,  so  there's  nothing  for  it  but  for  to 
t;o  round  by  the  workings,  maybe  for  a  mile,  maybe 
lliiTo  miles,  till  its  gets  back  into  the  main  road  again. 
.So  when  the  door  is  open  the  ventilation  is  checked  right 
rii.nul  the  workings;  so  mind  doan't  'ee  open  the  door  till 
t;io  horse  is  close  to  it,  and  shut  it  directly  it's  past." 

When  the  door  closed  behind  his  foster-father,  and 
Jack  Simpson  remained  alone  in  the  dense  darkness,  a 
feeling  of  utter  loneliness  and  desertion  stole  over  him. 
Tlio  blackness  was  intense  and  absolute;  a  low,  confused 
murmur,  the  reverberation  of  far-off  noises  in  the  pit, 
eounded  in  his  ears.  He  spoke,  and  his  voice  sounded 
muffled  and  dull. 

"This  be  worse  nor  I  looked  for,"  the  boy  said  to 
himself;  "I  suppose  I'll  get  used  to  it,  but  I  doan't  won- 
der that  some  young  uns  who  ain't  strong  as  I  be  are 
badly  frighted  at  first." 

Presently  the  confused  noise  seemed  to  get  louder, 
then  a  distinct  rumble  was  heard,  and  Jack  felt  with  de- 
light that  a  train  of  wagons  was  approaching.  Then  he 
eav/  far  along  the  gallery  a  light  swinging,  as  the  man 
who  bore  it  walked  ahead  of  the  horse.  The  water  in 
the  little  pools  between  the  sleepers  reflected  it  in  a 
Boore  of  little  lines  of  light.  Now  he  could  hear  the 
hollow  splashing  sound  of  the  horse's  hoofs,  and  pre- 
pared to  answer  to  the  shout  of  "door"  by  pulling  at  the 


so  FACING  DEATH. 

string  beside  him.  When  the  light  came  •within  twenty 
yards  it  changed  its  direction ;  he  heard  the  grating  of 
the  wheels  against  the  points,  and  saw  that  the  wagons 
were  going  up  the  other  road.  Thereupon  a  siding  they 
came  to  a  stop,  and  a  minute  or  two  later  a  number  of  full 
wagons  were  brought  down  by  another  horse.  A  few 
words  were  exchanged  by  the  drivers,  but  Jack's  ear, 
unaccustomed  to  the  echoes  of  a  mine,  could  not  catch 
what  they  said;  then  the  first  man  hitched  his  horse  oa 
to  the  full  wagons  and  started  for  the  shaft,  while  the 
other  with  the  empties  went  up  the  road  to  the  workings. 

The  incident,  slight  as  it  had  been,  had  altogether 
dissipated  the  feeling  of  uneasiness  of  which  Jack  had 
been  conscious.  Before,  he  had  seemed  shut  out  from 
the  world,  as  if  within  a  living  tomb,  but  the  sight  of 
men  engaged  at  their  ordinary  work  close  by  him  com- 
pletely restored  the  balance  of  his  mind,  and  henceforth 
he  never  felt  the  slightest  discomfort  at  being  alone  ia 
the  dark. 

.  A  few  minutes  after  the  rumbling  of  the  departing 
train  of  "tubs"  had  died  in  his  ear,  he  again  heard  it. 
Again  he  watched  the  slowly  approaching  light,  and 
when  it  came  within  a  few  yards  of  him  he  heard  the  ex- 
pected shout  of  "Gate!"  He  replied  by  a  shout  of  "All 
right!"  and  as  the  driver  came  level  with  him  pulled  the 
cord  and  the  door  opened. 

"G'long,  Smiler, "  the  driver  said,  and  the  horse  went 
forward.  The  man  leaned  forward  and  raised  his  lamp 
to  Jack's  face. 

"I  thawt  'twasn't  Jim  Brown's  voice.  Who  be'st 
thou?" 

"Jack  Simpson;  I  live  along  wi'  Bill  Haden." 

"Ay,  ay,  I  know'st,  I  knew  thy  father,  a  good  sort  ha 
was  too.     Be'st  thy  first  day  doon  the  pit?" 


FAGINO  DEATH.  31 

*'Ay,"  Jack  said. 

"Foiud  it  dark  and  lonesome,  eh?  Thou 'It  get  used 
to  it  soon." 

"How  often  do  the  corves  come  along?"  Jack  asked  as 
the  man  prepared  to  run  on  after  the  wagons,  the  last  of 
which  had  just  passed. 

"There  be  a  set  goes  out  every  ten  minutes,  maybe, 
on  this  road,  and  every  twenty  minutes  on  the  other, 
two  o'  ours  to  one  o'  theirs;"  and  he  moved  forward. 

Jack  let  the  door  slam  after  him,  went  out  and  felt  that 
it  had  shut  firml.v,  and  then  resumed  his  seat  in  his 
niche.  He  whistled  for  a  bit,  and  then  his  thoughts 
turned  to  the  learning  which  he  had  determined  firmly 
to  acquire. 

"I  wish  I'd  ha'  took  to  it  afore,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"What  a  sight  o'  time  I  ha'  lost!  I'll  go  over  in  my 
head  all  the  lessons  I  can  remember;  and  them  as  I 
doan't  know,  and  that's  the  best  part,  I  reckon  I'll  look 
up  when  I  get  hoame.  Every  day  what  I  learns  fresh  I'll 
go  over  down  here.  I  shall  get  it  perfect  then,  and  it 
will  pass  the  time  away  finely.  I'll  begin  at  oncet. 
Twice  two  is  four;"  and  so  Jack  passed  the  hours  of 
his  first  day  in  the  pit,  recalling  his  lessons,  reproachin-j 
himself  continually  and  bitterly  with  the  time  he  had 
wasted,  breaking  ofif  every  ten  minutes  from  his  re- 
hearsals to  open  the  door  for  the  train  of  corves  going  in 
empty  and  going  out  full,  exchanging  a  few  words  each 
time  with  the  drivers,  all  of  whom  Avere  good-naturedly 
anxious  to  cheer  up  the  new  boy,  who  must,  as  they  sup- 
posed, be  feeling  the  loneliness  of  his  first  day  in  the  pit 
keenly.  Such  was  by  no  means  the  case  with  Jack,  and 
he  was  quite  taken  by  surprise  when  a  driver  said  to 
him,  "This  be  the  last  train  this  shift." 

"Why,  it  beau't  nigh  two  o'clock,  surely?"  he  said. 


gS  FACMG  LEATH. 

"It  be,"  the   driver  said;  "wants  ten  minutes,  that's 

EJl.  " 

Soon  the  minars  began  to  come  along. 

"Hullo,  Jack!"  Bill  Haden's  voice  said,  "Be 'st  still 
here?  Come  along  of  me.  "Why  didst  stop,  lad?  Thou 
canst  alway  quit  thy  post  when  the  first  man  comes 
through  on  his  way  out.     Hast  felt  it  lonely,  lad?" 

"Not  a  bit,  dad." 

"That's  strange  too, "  Bill  said.  "Most  young  boys 
finds  it  awful  lonely  o'  first.  I  know  I  thawt  that  first 
day  were  never  coming  to  an  end.  Weren't  frighted  at 
t'  dark?" 

"I  thought  it  was  onnatural  dark  and  still  the  first  ten 
minutes, "  Jack  admitted  honestly;  "but  after  the  first 
set  o'  corves  came  along  I  never  thawt  no  more  about  the 
dark." 

"Here  we  are  at  the  shaft,  joomp  in,  there's  just  room 
for  you  and  me." 


FACING  DEAT3. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SETTING     TO     WORK. 

A  WEEK  after  Jack  Simpson  had  gone  to  v/ork  in  tba 
"'Vaughan"  there  was  a  knock  one  evening  at  the  door 
of  the  schoolmaster  of  the  Stokebridge  National  School. 

"Please,  Mr.  Merton,  can  I  speak  to  'ee?" 

"What,  is  that  you,  Jack  Simpson?"  the  schoolmaster 
said,  holding  the  candle  so  that  its  light  fell  upon  the 
boy  before  him.     "Yes,  come  in,  my  boy." 

The  lad  followed  him  into  the  parlor.  "Sit  dov/n, 
Jack.  Now  what  is  it?  Nothing  the  matter  at  home,  1 
hope?" 

"Noa,  sir.  I  wanted  to  ask  'ee  what  books  I  orter 
read,  so  that  I  may  grow  up  a  clever  man?" 

"Bless  me.  Jack,"  Mr.  Merton  said,  "why,  I  never 
expected  this  from  you." 

"Noa,  sir,  but  I  ha'  made  up  my  mind  to  get  on,  and 
I  means  to  work  hard.  I  ha'  been  told,  sir,  that  if  I 
studies  at  books  in  all  my  spare  time,  and  saves  iv.y 
money,  and  works  well,  I  may  get  up  high  some  day;" 
and  the  boy  looked  wistfully  up  in  the  master's  face  for 
a  confirmation  of  what  had  been  told  him. 

"That's  quite  right.  Jack,  whoever  told  you.  Hard 
work,  study,  thrift,  and  intelligence  will  take  any  lad 
from  the  bottom  of  the  tree  to  the  top.  And  you  ara 
quite  in  earnest.  Jack?" 

"Quite,  sir." 

The  schoolmaster  sat  in  silence  for  a  little  time. 


g4  FACING  DEATH. 

''Well,  my  boy,  for  a  bit  you  must  work  at  ordinary 
school-books,  and  get  a  fair  general  knowledge,  and  be 
careful  to  observe  the  way  things  are  expressed — the 
grammar,  I  mean;  read  aloud  when  you  are  alone,  and 
try  in  speaking  to  get  rid  of  'thees'  and  'thous,'  and 
other  mistakes  of  speech.  I  can  lend  you  ordinary 
school-books,  fit  for  you  for  the  next  four  or  five  years, 
and  will  always  explain  any  difficulties  you  may  meet 
with.  The  books  you  will  want  afterward  you  can  buy 
second-hand  at  Wolverhampton  or  Birmingham.  But 
there  will  be  time  to  talk  about  that  hereafter.  What 
time  have  you  to  study?  You  have  gone  into  the 
Vaughan  pit,  have  you  not?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  ha'  time  enough  all  daj',  for  I  ha'  nowt 
to  do  but  just  to  open  and  shut  a  door  when  the  tuba 
come  along;  but  I  ha'  no  light." 

"The  time  must  seem  very  long  in  the  dark  all  day." 
"It  do  seem  long,  sir;  and  it  will  be  wuss  when  I  want 
to  read,  and  know  I  am  just  wasting  time.  But  I  can 
read  at  home  after  work,  when  dad  goes  out.  It's  light 
now,  and  I  could  read  out  o'  doors  till  nine  o'clock. 
Mother  would  give  me  a  candle  now  and  again ;  and  I 
ebould  get  on  first  rate  in  the  pit,  but  the  Yaughan  is  a 
fiery  vein,  and  they  ha'  nowt  but  Davys." 

"Well,  my  boy,  here  are  a  few  books,  which  will  suit 
you  for  a  time.  Let  me  know  how  you  are  getting  on ; 
and  when  you  have  mastered  the  books,  let  me  know. 
Remember,  you  want  to  learn  them  thoroughly,  and  not 
just  well  enough  to  rub  through  without  getting  the 
strap.  But  don't  overdo  it.  You  are  a  very  small  hoy 
yet,  and  it  is  of  as  much  importance  for  your  future  life 
that  you  should  grow  strong  in  body  as  well  as  in  brain. 
Ho  you  must  not  give  up  play.  If  you  were  to  do  noth- 
ing but  sit  in  the  dark,  and  to  study  at  all   other   times. 


FACING  DEATH.  35 

you  would  soou  'occome  a  fool.  So  you  must  give  time  to 
play  as  well  as  to  work.  Kemember,  do  not  be  cast 
down  with  difficulties;  they  will  pass  by  if  you  face 
them.  There  is  an  old  saying,  'God  helps  those  who 
help  themselves. '  And  look  here,  Jack,  I  can  tell  you 
the  best  way  to  make  the  time  pass  quickly  while  you 
are  in  the  dark.  Set  yourself  sums  to  do  in  your  head. 
You  will  find  it  difficult  at  first,  but  it  will  come  easier 
with  practice,  and  as  j^ou  get  on  I  will  give  you  a  book 
on  'mental  arithmetic,'  and  you  will  find  that  there  is 
nothing  more  useful  than  being  able  to  make  complicated 
calculations  in  your  head." 

The  next  six  months  passed  quickly  with  Jack  Simii- 
son.  He  started  early  with  his  father  for  the  pit,  and  tno 
hours  there,  which  at  first  had  seemed  so  long,  slipped 
by  rapidly  as  he  multiplied,  and  added,  and  subtracted, 
finding  that  he  could  daily  master  longer  lines  of  figures. 
Of  an  afternoon  he  played  with  the  other  pit  boys,  and 
after  that  worked  steadilj'  at  his  books  till  eleven  o'clock, 
two  hours  after  Bill  Haden  and  his  wife  had  gone  to  bed. 
Once  a  week  he  went  in  the  evening  to  Mr.  Merton,  who 
was  astonished  at  the  progress  that  the  boy  was  making 
and  willingly  devoted  an  hour  to  explaining  difficulties 
and  helping  him  on  with  his  work. 

Satisfied  now  that  the  boy  was  in  earnest,  Mr.  Merton 
a  few  days  afterward  took  occasion,  when  Mr.  Brook,  the 
owner  of  the  Vaughau  mine,  called  in  on  school  business, 
to  tell  him  how  one  of  the  pit  boys  was  striving  to  educate 
himself. 

"He  is  really  in  earnest,  Merton;  it  is  not  a  mere 
freak?" 

"No,  Mr.  Brook,  the  lad  will  stick  to  it,  I'm  sure. 
He  goes  by  the  nickname  of  Bulldog,  and  I  don't  think 
he  is  badly  named;  he  has  both  the  pluck  and  the  tenac- 
ity of  one. ' ' 


36  FACING  DEAin. 

"Very  •well,  Merton ;  I  am  glad  you  spoke  to  me  about 
it.  I  -wish  a  few  more  boys  would  try  and  educate  them- 
selves for  viewers  and  underground  managers ;  it  is  difiS- 
cult  indeed  to  get  men  who  are  anything  but  working 
miners.     I'll  make  a  note  of  his  name. " 

A  few  days  afterward  Mr.  Brook,  after  going  through 
the  books,  went  over  the  mine  with  the  underground 
manager. 

"Do  the  wagons  often  get  off  the  metals  along  this 
road,  Evans?"  he  asked,  stopping  at  one  of  the  doore 
which  regulate  the  ventilation. 

"Pretty  often,  sir;  the  rails  are  not  very  true,  and  tho 
sleepers  want  renewing." 

"It  would  be  as  well  if  there  were  an  extra  light  some- 
where here;  it  would  be  handy.     This  is  Number  Tea 
door,  is  it  not?" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"Who  is  this?  a  new  hand,  is  he  not?"  raising  bis 
lamp  so  as  to  have  a  full  look  at  the  lad,  who  was  stand- 
ing respectfully  in  the  niche  in  the  rock  cut  for  him. 

"Yes,  sir;  he  is  the  son  of  a  hand  who  was  killed  in 
the  pit  some  ten  years  ago — Simpson." 

"Ah!  I  remember,"  Mr.  Brook  said.  "Well,  serve 
the  boy  a  lamp  out  when  he  goes  down  of  a  day.  Youll 
be  careful  with  it,  lad,  and  not  let  it  fall?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir,"  Jack  said,  in  a  tone  of  delight;  "and 
please,  sir,  may  I  read  when  I  am  not  wanted?" 

"Certainly  you  may,"  his  master  said;  "only  you 
must  not  neglect  3'our  work;"  and  then  Mr.  Brook  went 
on,  leaving  Jack  so  overjoyed  that  for  that  afternoon  at 
least  his  attempts  at  mental  arithmetic  were  egregious 
failures. 


FACING  DEATO.  37 


CHAPTER  VI 

'*  THE  OLD  8HAPT.  ** 

In  the  corner  of  a  rough  piece  of  ground  near  the 
Vaugban  was  situated  what  was  known  as  the  old  shaft. 
It  had  been  made  many  years  before,  with  a  view  to  work- 
ing coal  there.  The  owners  of  the  Yaughan,  which  ai 
the  time  was  just  commencing  work,  had,  however, 
bought  up  the  ground,  and  as  it  adjoined  their  own  and 
could  be  worked  in  connection  with  it,  they  stopped  tho 
sinking  here.  This  was  so  long  ago  that  the  rubbish 
which  had  formed  a  mound  round  the  mouth  of  the  shaft 
had  been  long  covered  with  vegetation,  and  a  fence 
placed  round  the  pit  had  fallen  into  decay. 

The  shaft  had  been  sunk  some  fifty  fathoms,  but  was 
now  full  of  water  to  within  forty  feet  of  the  surface. 
Some  boards  covered  the  top,  and  the  adventurous  spirits 
among  the  boys  v>ould  drop  stones  through  tbe  openings 
between  them,  and  listen  to  the  splash  as  they  struck  the 
water  below,  or  would  light  pieces  of  paper  and  watch 
them  falling  into  the  darkness,  until  they  disappeared 
suddenly  as  they  touched  the  water. 

The  winch  used  in  the  process  of  excavation  remained, 
and  round  it  was  a  portion  of  the  chain  so  old  and  rmXy 
as  to  be  worthless  for  any  purpose  whatever.  Leni2;tb3 
had  from  time  to  time  been  broken  oii  by  boys,  who 
would  unwind  a  portion,  and  then  three  or  four  pull  to- 
gether until  the  rust-eaten  links  gave  way  and  the  boy  j 
came  to  the  ground  with  a  crash.     It  was  a  dirty  gamo^ 


38  FACING  DEATH. 

however,  dirty  even  for  pit  "boys,  for  the  j'ellow  rus4 
"would  stick  to  hands  and  clothes  and  be  very  difficult  to 
remove. 

One  Saturday  afternoon  a  group  of  boys  and  girls  of 
from  ten  to  fourteen  were  playing  in  the  field.  Pres- 
ently it  was  proposed  to  play  king  of  the  castle,  or  a 
game  akin  thereto,  half  a  dozen  holding  the  circular 
mound  round  the  old  pit,  while  the  rest  attacked  them 
and  endeavored  to  storm  the  position.  For  some  time 
the  game  went  on  with  much  shouting  on  the  part  of  the 
boys  and  shrill  shrieks  from  the  girls,  as  they  were 
palled  or  pushed  down  the  steep  bank. 

"Let  us  make  a  charge  a'  together,"  said  Jack  Simp- 
son, who  although  not  thirteen  was  the  leader  of  the 
attacking  party. 

Then  heading  the  rush  he  went  at  full  speed  at  the 
castle.  Harry  Shepherd,  who  was  one  of  the  defenders, 
was  at  the  top,  but  Jack  had  so  much  impe'>:us  that  he 
gained  his  footing  and  thrust  Harry  violently  backward. 

The  top  of  the  bank  was  but  three  feet  wide,  and 
within  sloped  down  to  the  mouth  of  the  old  pit  shaft, 
fifteen  feet  below.  Harry  tottered,  and  to  avoid  falling 
backward  turned  and  with  great  strides  ran  down  the 
bank.  He  was  unable  to  arrest  his  course,  but  went 
through  the  rotten  fence  and  on  to  the  boarding  of  the 
shaft.  There  was  a  crash,  a  wild  cry,  and  Harry  disap- 
peared from  the  sight  of  his  horror-stricken  companions. 
The  rotten  woodwork  had  given  way  and  the  boy  had 
fallen  into  the  old  shaft. 

A  panic  seized  the  players,  some  rushed  away  at  the 
top  of  their  speed  shouting,  "Harry  Shepherd  has  fallen 
down  the  old  shaft!"  others  stood  paralyzed  on  the  top 
of  the  mound;  girls  screamed  and  cried.  Two  only 
appeared  to  have  possession  of  their  wits.     The  one  waa 


FACING  DEATH,  39 

Jack  Simpson,  the  other  was  a  girl  of  about  twelve, 
Nelly  Hardy.  Jack  did  not  hesitate  an  instant,  but 
quickly  ran  down  to  the  shaft;  Nelly  more  quietly,  but 
with  an  earnest  set  face,  followed  him.  Jack  threw  him- 
self down  by  the  edge  and  peered  down  the  shaft. 

"Harry,  Harry,"  he  shouted,  "bee'st  killed?"  A 
Bort  of  low  cry  came  up. 

"He  be  alive,  he  be  drowning,"  Jack  exclaimed; 
"quick,  get  off  them  boords. " 

"Nelly  at  once  attempted  to  aid  Jack  to  lift  the  boards 
aside, 

"Coom,"  Jack  shouted  to  the  boys  on  the  top,  "what 
bee 'st  feared  of?  Thou  art  shamed  by  this  lass  here. 
Coom  along  and  help  us." 

Several  of  the  boys  hurried  down,  stung  by  Jack'a 
taunt,  and  half  the  boards  were  soon  pulled  oil. 

"What  bee'st  goin'  to  do.  Jack?" 

"Go  down,  to  be  sure,"  Jack  said.  "Catch  hold  o* 
th'  windlass." 

"The  chain  woan't  hold  you.  Jack." 

"It  maun  hold  me,"  Jack  said. 

"It  woan't  hold  two,  Jack." 

"Lower  away  and  hold  thee  jaw,"  Jack  said;  "I  am 
going  to  send  him  up  first  if  he  be  alive;  lower  away,  I 
say." 

Jack  caught  hold  of  the  end  of  the  rusty  chain,  and 
tlie  boys  lowered  away  as  rapidly  as  they  could. 

Jack  held  on  stoutly,  and  continued  to  shout,  "Hold 
on,  Harry,  I  be  a-coming;  another  minute  and  I'll  be 
with  'ee. " 

The   chain   held   firmly,  and   Jack   swung   downward 

The  shaft  was  of  considerable  size,  and  the  openings  in 
the  planks  had  enable  th©  air  to  circulate  freely,  conse- 


40  FACING  DEATH. 

quenily  there  was  no  bad  air.  As  Jack  reached  the 
water  he  looked  eagerly  round,  and  then  gave  a  cry  of 
joy.  Above  the  water  he  saw  a  hand  grasping  a  project- 
ing piece  of  rock. 

Earry  conld  not  swim,  but  he  had  grasped  the  edge  of 
a  projecting  stone  near  which  he  had  fallen,  and  when 
his  strength  had  failed,  and  he  had  sunk  below  the  sur- 
face, hia  hand  still  retained  its  grasp. 

"Lower  away,"  Jack  shouted,  and  the  chain  was 
slackened. 

Jack  could  swim  a  little,  just  enough  to  cross  tha 
Stokebridge  Canal  where  the  water  was  only  out  of  his 
depth  for  some  fifteen  feet  in  the  middle.  First  he  tock 
oS  his  handkerchief  from  his  neck,  a  strong  cotton  birds- 
eye,  and  keeping  hold  of  the  chain  before  him  awam  to 
the  spot  where  the  hand  was  above  water.  Ha  had  a 
terrible  fear  of  its  slipping  and  disappearing  below  the 
dark  pool,  and  was  careful  to  make  a  firm  grasp  at  it. 
He  was  surprised  to  find  the  body  was  of  no  weight. 
"Without  a  moment's  delay  he  managed  to  bind  the  wrisb 
fast  to  the  chain  with  his  handkerchief. 

"Above  there,"  he  shouted. 

"Ay,"  came  down. 

"Wind  up  very  steadily,  don't  jerk  it  now."  Slowly 
the  winch  revolved  and  the  body  began  to  rise  from  the 
water. 

Jack  clung  to  the  stone  which  Harry  had  grasped  and 
looked  upward.  He  wondered  vaguely  whether  it  would 
ever  reach  the  top;  he  wondered  whether  the  arm  would 
pull  out  of  the  socket,  and  the  body  plump  down  into 
the  water;  he  wondered  how  long  he  could  hold  on,  and 
why  his  clothes  seemed  so  heavy.  He  wondeied  whether, 
if  his  strength  went  before  the  chain  came  down  again, 
his  hand  would  hold  on  as  Harry's  had  done,  or  whether 


Facing  D.        In  the  Olo  Shaft— Will  hb  bb  Saved  ?— Page  40. 


FACING  DEATH.  41 

he  should  go  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  shaft.  How  far 
was  it?  Fifty  fathoms,  three  hundred  feet;  he  was  fifty 
below  the  mouth,  two  hundred  and  fifty  to  sink;  how 
long  would  his  body  be  getting  to  the  bottom?  What 
would  his  mother  and  Bill  Haden  say?  Would  they 
ever  try  to  get  his  body  up? 

He  was  growing  very  weak.  As  from  another  world 
he  had  heard  the  shout  from  above  when  the  body  of 
Harry  Shepherd  reached  the  brink,  and  afterward  some 
vague  murmurs.  Presently  his  fingers  slipped  and  he 
went  down  in  the  black  pool.  The  chill  of  the  water  to 
his  face,  the  sudden  choking  sensation,  brought  his  senses 
back  for  a  moment  and  he  struck  to  the  surface. 

There,  touching  the  water,  he  saw  the  chain,  and  as  he 
grasped  it  heard  the  shouts  of  his  comrades  above  call- 
ing to  him.  He  was  himself  again  now.  Tae  chain 
being  some  feet  below  the  surface  he  managed  to  pass  ib 
round  him,  and  to  twist  it  in  front.  He  was  too  ex- 
hausted to  shout. 

He  saw  a  great  piece  of  paper  on  fire  fluttering  down, 
and  heard  a  shout  as  its  light  showed  him  on  the  end  of 
the  chain;  then  he  felt  a  jar  and  felt  himself  rising  from 
the  water;  after  that  he  knew  nothing  more  until  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  found  himself  lying  on  the  bank. 

Nelly  Hardy  was  kneeling  by  him  and  his  head  was  in 
her  lap.  He  felt  various  hands  rubbing  him  and  slap- 
ping the  palms  of  his  hands;  his  animation  was  quickly 
restored.  He  had  swallowed  but  little  water,  and  it  was 
the  close  air  of  the  shaft  which  had  overpowered  him. 

"Halloo!"  he  said,  shaking  himself,  "let  me  up,  I  be 
all  right;  how's  Harry?" 

Harry  had  not  yet  come  round,  though  some  of  them, 
trying  to  restore  him  to  consciousness,  said  that  they 
had  heard  him  breathe  once.     Jack  as  usual  took  the 


42  FACING  DEATH, 

command,  ordered  all  but  two  or  three  to  stand  back, 
told  Nelly  Hardy  to  lift  Harry's  bead  and  undo  his  shirt, 
stripped  him  to  the  waist,  and  then  set  the  boys  to  work 
to  rub  vigorously  on  his  chest.  Whether  the  efforts 
would  have  been  successful  is  doubtful,  but  at  this  mo- 
ment there  was  a  sound  of  hurrying  feet  and  of  rapid 
wheels. 

Those  who  had  started  at  the  first  alarm  had  reached 
the  village  and  told  the  news,  and  most  fortunately  had 
met  the  doctor  as  he  drove  in  from  his  rounds.  A  mau 
with  a  rope  had  leaped  into  the  gig,  and  the  doctor  as  ha 
drove  off  had  shouted  that  hot  blankets  were  to  be 
prepared. 

When  he  reached  the  spot  and  heard  that  Harry  had 
been  brought  to  bank,  he  leaped  out,  clioibed  tha 
mound,  wrapped  him  in  his  coat,  carried  him  down  to  his 
gig,  and  then  drove  back  at  full  speed  to  Stokebridge, 
where  with  the  aid  of  hot  blankets  and  stimulants  the  lad 
was  brought  back  to  consciousness. 

Jack  Simpson  was  the  hero  of  the  hour,  and  the  pit- 
men, accustomed  to  face  death  as  they  were,  yet  marveled 
at  a  boy  trusting  himself  to  a  chain  which  looked  unfit 
to  bear  its  own  weight  only,  and  into  the  depth  of  a  well 
where  the  air  might  have  been  unlit  to  breathe. 

Jack  strenuously,  and  indeed  angrib',  disclaimed  ail 
credit  whatever. 

*'I  didn't  think  nowt  about  the  chain,  nor  the  air,  nor 
the  water  neither.  I  thought  only  o'  Harry.  It  was  me 
£3  had  pushed  him  down,  and  I'd  got  to  bring  him  oop. 
If  I  hadn't  a  gone  down  Nelly  Hardy  would  ha'  gone, 
though  she  be  a  lass  and  doan't  know  how  to  swim  or  to 
hold  on  b3''  a  chain,  or  nowt;  but  she'd  ha'  gone,  I  tell 
'ee,  if  I  hadn't;  I  saw  it  in  her  face.  She  didn't  say 
nowt,  but  she  was  ready  to  go.     If  she  hadn't  gone  down 


FACING  DEATH.  43 

to  tb'  ebsft  none  of  them  would  ha'  gone.  She's  a  rare 
plucked  'un,  she  is,  I  tell  'ee. " 

But  in  spite  of  Jack's  indignant  repudiation  of  any 
credit,  the  brave  action  was  the  talk  of  Stokebridge  and 
of  the  neighboring  pit  villages  for  some  time.  There 
Ere  no  men  appreciate  bravery  more  keenly  than  pitmen, 
for  they  themselves  are  ever  ready  to  risk  thef.r  lives  to 
save  those  of  others.  Consequently  a  subscription,  the 
limit  of  which  was  sixpence  and  the  minimum  a  penny, 
vras  set  on  foot,  and  a  fortnight  later  Jack  was  presented 
with  a  gold  watch  with  an  inscription. 

This  was  presented  in  the  schoolroom,  and  Mr.  Brook, 
who  presided  at  the  meeting,  added  on  his  own  account 
a  chain  to  match.  In  needed  almost  force  on  the  part 
cf  Bill  Haden  to  compel  Jack  to  be  present  on  this  occa- 
Bion.  "When  he  was  led  up,  flushed  with  confusion,  to 
Mr.  Brook,  amid  the  cheers  of  the  crowd  of  those  in  the 
room,  he  listened  with  head  hung  down  to  tlae  remarks 
cf  his  employer. 

When  that  gentleman  finished  and  held  out  the  watch 
and  chain,  Jack  drew  back  and  held  up  his  head. 

"I  doan"t  loike  it,  sir;  I  pushed  Harry  in,  and  in 
course  I  went  down  to  pick  him  out;  besides,  Harry's 
my  chum,  he  be;  was  it  loikely  I  should  stand  by  and 
he  drowning?  I  tell  'ee  sir,  that  you  ain't  said  a  word 
about  the  lass  Nelly  Hardy;  she  had  ijluck,  she  had. 
The  boys  ran  away  or  stood  and  stared,  but  she  came 
down  as  quiet  as  may  be.  I  tell  'ee,  sir,  her  face  was 
pale,  but  she  was  as  steady  and  as  still  as  a  man  could 
ha'  been,  and  did  as  I  told  her  wi'out  stopping  for  a 
moment  and  wi'out  as  much  as  saying  a  word.  She'd 
ha'  gone  down  if  I'd  told  her  to.  Where  be  ye,  Nelly 
Hardy?  coom  oot  and  let  me  show  ye  to  Mr.  Brook." 

But   Nelly,    who    was    indeed    in    the    building,    had 


44  FACIKa  BEATB.. 

shrunk  aTvr.y  when  Jack  began  to  speak,  and  haviog 
gained  the  door,  was  on  the  point  of  flying,  when  sha 
was  seized  and  brought  forward,  looking  shamefaced  and 
sullen. 

"That  be  her,  sir,"  Jack  said  triumphantly,  "and  I 
say  this  watch  and  chain  ought  to  be  hers,  for  she  did 
much  more  for  a  lass  than  I  did  for  a  boy,  and  had  no 
call  to  do't  as  I  had." 

"I  cannot  give  them  to  her.  Jack, "  Mr.  Brook  said, 
"for  the  watch  has  been  subscribed  for  you ;  but  as  a 
token  of  my  appreciation  of  the  bravery  and  presence  of 
mind  she  has  shown,  I  will  myself  present  her  with  a 
silver  watch  and  chain,  with  an  inscription  saying  why 
it  was  given  to  her,  and  this  she  will,  I  am  sure,  value 
all  her  life." 

Perhaps  she  would,  but  at  present  her  only  thought 
was  to  get  away.  Her  hair  was  all  rough,  she  had  on  a 
tattered  dress,  and  had  only  slipped  in  when  those  iu 
charge  of  the  door  were  intent  upon  hearing  Mr.  Brook's 
address.  Without  a  word  of  thanks,  the  instant  tha 
bands  restraining  her  were  loosed  she  dived  into  the 
crowd  and  escaped  like  a  bird  from  a  snare.  Satisfied 
that  justice  had  been  done.  Jack  now  said  a  few  words  of 
thanks  to  his  employer  and  the  subscribers  to  his  present, 
and  the  meeting  then  broke  up.  Jack  returning  with  Bill 
Haden  and  his  mother,  both  beaming  with  delight. 

"I  be  roight  down  glad,  lad;  I  doan't  know  as  I've  been 
so  glad  since  Juno's  dam  won  the  first  prize  for  pure- 
bred bulldogs  at  the  Birmingham  show.  It  seems  joosli 
the  same  sort  o'  thing,  doau't  it,  Jane?" 


FACWG  DEATff  45 


CHAPTER    Vn. 


FRIENDSHIP. 


Nelly  Hardy  had  been  unfortunate  in  her  parents,  for 
both  drank,  and  she  had  grown  up  without  care  or  super- 
vision. She  had  neither  brother  nor  sister.  At  school 
she  was  always  either  at  the  top  or  bottom  cf  her  class 
according  as  a  fit  of  diligence  or  idleness  seized  her. 
>She  was  a  wild,  passionate  child,  feeling  bitterly  the 
iieg;lect  with  which  she  was  treated,  her  ragged  clothes, 
hor  unkept  appearance.  She  was  feared  and  yet  liked 
by  the  girls  of  her  own  age,  for  she  was  generous,  always 
ready  to  do  a  service,  and  good-tempered  except  when 
excited  to  passion.  She  was  fonder  of  joining  with  the 
buys,  when  they  would  let  her,  in  their  games,  and, 
when  angered,  was  ready  to  hold  her  own  against  them 
with  tooth  and  nail. 

So  wild  were  her  bursts  of  passion  that  they  were 
sources  of  amusement  to  some  of  the  boys,  until  Jack 
upon  one  occasion  took  her  part,  and  fought  and  con- 
quered the  boy  who  had  excited  her.  This  was  on  the 
Saturday  before  the  accident  had  taken  place. 

For  some  days  after  the  presentation  no  one  saw  her; 
fche  kept  herself  shut  up  in  the  house  or  wandered  far 
away. 

Then  she  appeared  suddenly  before  Jack  Simpson 
and  Harry  Shepherd  as  they  were  out  together. 

"I  hate  you.  Jack  Simpson,"  she  said,  "I  hate  you,  I 


48  FACma  DEATH. 

hate  you;"  and  then  dashed  through  the  gap  in  tha 
hedge  by  which  she  had  come. 

"Well,"  Harry  exclaimed  in  astonishment,  "only  to 
think!" 

"It  be  nat'ral  enough,"  Jack  said,  "and  I  hain't  sur- 
prised one  bit.  I  orter  ha'  known  better.  I  had  only  to 
fca'  joodged  her  by  myself  and  I  should  ha'  seen  it.  I 
hated  being  dragged  forward  and  talked  at;  it  was  bad 
enough  though  I  had  been  made  decent  and  clean 
scrubbed  all  over,  and  got  my  Soonday  clothes  on,  but  of 
course  it  would  be  worse  for  a  lass  anyway,  and  she  was 
all  anyhow,  not  expecting  it.  I  ought  to  ha'  known 
better;  I  thawt  only  o'  my  own  feelings  and  not  o'  hers, 
and  I'd  beg  her  pardon  a  hundred  times,  but  'taint  likely 
she'd  forgive  me.     "What  is  she  a  doing  now?" 

The  lads  peered  through  the  hedge.  Far  across  the 
field  on  the  bank,  on  the  other  side,  lay  what  locked  lika 
a  bundle  of  clothes. 

"She  be  a  crying,  I  expect,"  Jack  said  remorsefully. 
"I  do  wish  some  big  chap  would  come  along  and  give  I  a 
hiding;  I  wouldn't  fight,  or  kick,  or  do  nowt,  I  would 
just  take  it,  it  would  serve  me  roight.  I  wonder  whether 
it  would  do  her  any  good  to  let  her  thrash  me.  If  it 
would  she'd  be  welcome.  Look  here,  Harrj',  she  hain't 
angry  wi'  you.  Do  thou  go  across  to  her  and  tell  her 
how  main  sorry  I  be,  and  that  I  know  I  am  a  selfish 
brute  and  thought  o'  mj'self  and  not  o'  her,  and  say  that 
if  she  likes  I  will  cut  her  a  stick  any  size  she  likes  and 
let  her  welt  me  just  as  long  as  she  likes  wi'out  saying  a 
word." 

Harry  was  rather  loath  to  go  on  such  an  errand,  but 
being  imperatively  ordered  by  Jack,  he,  as  usual,  did  as 
his  comrade  wished.  When  he  approached  Nelly  Hardy 
he  saw  that  the  girl  was  crying  bitterly,  her  sobs  shak- 
ing her  whole  body. 


FACING  DEATH.  47 

"I  be  coom  wi'  a  message,"  he  began  in  a  tone  o! 
apprehension,  for  he  regarded  Nelly  as  resembling  a  wild 
eat  in  her  dangerous  and  unexpected  attacks. 

The  giii  leaped  to  her  feet  and  turned  her  flushed,  tear 
stained  cheeks  and  eyes,  flashing  with  anger  through  tha 
tears,  upon  him. 

"What  dost  want,  Harry  Shepherd?  Get  thee  gonSj 
or  I'll  tear  the  eyes  from  thy  head. " 

"I  doan't  coom  o'  my  own  accord,"  Harry  said  steadily, 
though  he  recoiled  a  little  before  her  fierce  outburst. 
"I  came  on  the  part  o'  Jack  Simpson,  and  I've  got  to  gi' 
you  his  message  even  if  you  do  fly  at  me,  I've  got  to 
tell  you  that  he  be  main  sorry,  and  that  he  feels  he  were 
a  selfish  brute  in  a  thinking  o'  his  own  feelings  instead 
o'  thine.  He  says  he  be  so  sorry  that  if  'ee  like  he'ii 
cut  a  stick  o'  any  size  you  choose  and  ull  let  you  we'.c 
him  as  long  as  you  like  wi'out  saying  a  word.  Ar;d 
when  Jack  says  a  thing  he  means  it,  so  if  you  wants  to 
wop  him,  come  on." 

To  Harry's  intense  surprise  the  girl's  mood  changed. 
She  dropped  on  the  ground  again,  and  again  began  to 
cry. 

After  standing  still  for  some  time  and  seeing  no  abate- 
ment in  her  sobs,  or  any  sign  of  her  carrying  out  the 
invitation  of  which  he  had  been  the  bearer,  Jack's  emis- 
sary returned  to  him. 

"I  guv  her  your  message.  Jack,  and  she  said  nowt,  but 
there  she  be  a-crying  still." 

"Perhaps  she  didn't  believe  you,"  Jack  said;  "I'd 
best  go  myself." 

First,  with  great  deliberation.  Jack  chose  a  hazel  stick 
from  the  hedge  and  tried  it  critically.  When  fully 
assured  that  it  was  at  once  lissom  and  tough,  and  admira- 
bly adapted  for  his  purpose,  he  told  Harry  to  go  oa 
home. 


is  FACING  DEATH. 

"Maybe,"  Jack  said,  "she  mayn't  loike  to  use  it  and 
you  a  looking  on.  Doan't  'ee  say  a  -word  to  no  un.  If 
the  likes  to  boast  as  she  ha'  welted  me  she  ha'  a  roight 
to  do  so,  but  doan't  j'ou  say  novrt. " 

Jack  walked  slowly  across  the  field  till  he  was  close  to 
the  figure  on  the  ground.  Then  he  quietly  removed  hia 
jacket  and  waistcoat  and  laid  them  down.     Then  he  said: 

"Now,  Nelly,  I  be  ready  for  a  welting.  I  ha'  deserved 
it  if  ever  a  chap  did,  and  I'll  take  it.  Here's  the  stick, 
and  he's  a  good  un  and  will  sting  rare,  I  warrant." 

The  girl  sat  up  and  looked  at  him  through  her  tears. 

"Oh,  Jack,  didst  really  think  I  wanted  to  welt  thee?" 

"I  didn't  know  whether  thou  didst  or  no,  Nelly,  but 
ihou  said  thou  hate'st  me,  and  wi'  good  reason,  so  if 
thou  likest  to  welt  me,  here's  the  stick." 

The  girl  laughed  through  her  tears.  "Ah,  tTack  thou 
must  think  that  I  am  a  wildcat,  as  John  Dobson  called 
me  t'other  day.  Throw  away  that  stick,  Jack.  I  would 
rather  a  thousand  times  that  thou  laidst  it  on  my  shoul- 
ders than  I  on  thine. " 

Jack  threw  away  the  stick,  put  on  his  coat  and  waist- 
coat, and  sat  down  on  the  bank. 

"What  is  it  then,  lass?  I  know  I  were  cruel  to  have 
thee  called  forward,  but  I  didn't  think  o't;  but  I  had 
rather  that  thou  beat  me  as  I  orter  be  beaten  than  that 
thou  should  go  on  hating  me." 

"I  doan't  hate  thee,  Jack,  though  I  said  so;  I  hate 
myself;  but  I  like  thee  better  nor  all,  thou  art  so  brave 
and  good." 

"No  braver  than  thou,  Nelly,"  Jack  said  earnestly;  "I 
clean 't  understand  why  thou  should  first  say  thou  hates  me 
and  then  that  thou  doan't;  but  if  thou  are  in  earnest,  that 
Ibou  likest  me,  we'll  be  friends.  I  doan't  mean  that  we 
go  for  walks  together,  and  such  like,  as  Bome  boys  and 


FACING  DEATH.  49 

girls  do,  for  I  La'  no  time  for  such  things,  and  I  shouldn't 
like  ic  even  if  I  had;  but  I'll  take  thy  part  if  any  one 
says  owt  to  thee,  and  thou  shalt  tell  mo  when  thou  art 
very  bad  at  hoam" — for  the  failings  of  Nelly's  parents 
were  public  property.  "Thou  shalt  be  a  friend  to  me, 
not  as  a  lass  would  be,  but  as  Harry  is,  and  thou  woan'fc 
mind  if  I  blow  thee  up  and  tells  'ee  of  things.  Thou 
stook  to  me  by  the  side  of  the  shaft  and  I'll  stick  to 
thee." 

"I'll  do  that,"  the  girl  said,  laying  her  hand  in  his. 
"I'll  be  thy  friend  if  thou'lt  let  me,  not  as  lasses  are, 
but  as  lads." 

And  so  the  friendship  was  ratified,  and  tbey  walked 
back  together  to  the  village.  "When  he  came  to  think  it 
over,  Jack  was  inclined  to  repent  his  bargain,  for  he 
feared  that  she  would  attach  herself  to  him,  and  that  ha 
would  have  much  laughter  to  endure  and  many  battles  to 
fight.  To  his  surprise  Nelly  did  nothing  of  the  sort. 
She  would  be  at  her  door  every  morning  as  he  went  by 
to  the  pit  and  give  him  a  nod,  and  again  as  he  returned. 
Whenever  other  girls  and  boj's  were  plaj'ing  or  sitting 
together,  Nelly  would  make  one  of  the  group.  If  he 
said,  as  he  often  did  say,  "You,  Nell  Hardj',  come  and 
sit  by  me,"  she  came  gladly,  but  she  never  claimed  the 
place.  She  was  ready  to  come  or  to  go,  to  run  messages 
and  to  do  him  good  in  any  way. 

Jack  had  promised  she  should  be  his  friend  as  Harry 
was,  and  as  he  got  to  like  her  more  he  would  ask  her  or 
tell  her  to  accompany  them  in  their  walks,  or  to  sit  on  a 
low  wall  in  some  quiet  corner  and  talk.  Harry,  stirred 
by  his  friend's  example,  had  begun  to  spend  half  an  hour 
a  day  over  his  old  schoolbooks. 

"Why  dost  like  larning  so  much,  Jack?"  Nelly  asked 
as  Jack  was  severely  reproaching  his  friend  with   not 


50  FACING  DEATH, 

having  looked  at  a  book  for  some  days;  ''what  good  do 
it  do?" 

"It  raises  folk  in  the  world,  Nell,  helps  'em  make  their 
way  up, ' ' 

"And  dost  thou  mean  to  get  oop  i'  the  world?" 

"Ay,  lass,"  Jaok  said,  "if  hard  work  can  do  it,  I  will; 
tout  it  does  more  nor  that.  If  a  man  knows  things  and 
loves  reading  it  makes  him  different  like;  he's  got  sum- 
mat  to  think  about  and  talk  about  and  care  for  besida 
public  houses  and  dorgs.     Canst  read,  Nell?" 

"No,  Jack,"  she  said,  coloring.  "It  hain't  my  fault; 
mother  never  had  the  pence  to  spare  for  schooling,  and 
I  was  kept  at  hoam  to  help. " 

Jack  sat  thoughtful  for  some  time. 

"Wouldst  like  to  learn?" 

"Ay." 

"Well,  I'll  teach  thee." 

"Oh,  Jack!"  and  she  leaped  up  with  flashing  eyes 5 
"how  good  thou  be'est!" 

"Doan't,"  Jack  said  crossly;  "what  be  there  good  in 
teaching  a  lass  to  spell?  There's  twopence,  run  down 
to  the  corner  shop  and  buy  a  spelling-book;  we'll  begin 
at  once." 

And  so  Nelly  had  her  first  lesson. 

After  that,  every  afternoon,  as  Jack  came  home  from 
work,  the  girl  would  meet  him  in  a  quiet  corner  off  the 
general  line,  and  for  five  minutes  he  would  teach  her,  not 
hearing  her  say  what  she  had  learned,  but  telling  her 
fresh  sounds  and  combinations  of  letters.  Five  or  six 
times  he  would  go  over  them,  and  expected — for  Jack 
was  tyrannical  in  his  ways — that  she  would  carry  them 
away  with  her  and  learn  them  by  heart,  and  go  through 
them  again  and  again,  so  that  when  he  questioned  her 
daring  their  longer  talks  she  would  be  perfect. 


FACING  DEATH.  51 

Then,  the  five  rQinutes  over.  Jack  would  run  on  to 
make  up  for  lost  time,  and  be  in  as  soon  as  Bill  Haden. 

But  however  accurately  Jack  expected  his  pupil  to 
learn,  his  expectations  were  surpassed.  The  girl  beyond 
clearing  up  the  room  had  nothing  to  do,  and  she  devoted 
herself  with  enthusiasm  to  this  work.  Once  she  had 
mastered  simple  words  and  felt  her  own  progress,  her 
shyness  as  to  her  ignorance  left  her.  She  always  carried 
her  book  in  her  pocket,  and  took  to  asking  girls  the  pro- 
nunciation of  larger  words,  and  begging  them  to  read  a 
few  lines  to  her;  and  sitting  on  the  doorstep  poring  over 
her  book,  she  would  salute  any  passer-by  with :  "Please 
tell  us  what  is  that  word."  "When  she  could  read  easily, 
which  she  learned  to  do  in  two  or  three  months,  she  bor- 
rowed left-off  schoolbooks  from  the  gii'ls,  and  worked 
slowly  on,  and  two  years  later  had  made  up  for  all  her 
early  deficiencies,  and  knew  as  much  as  any  of  those  who 
had  passed  through  the  school. 

From  the  day  of  her  compact  of  friendship  with  Jack 
her  appearance  and  demeanor  had  been  gradually  chang- 
ing. From  the  first  her  wild,  unkempt  hair  had  been 
Bmoothly  combed  and  braided,  though  none  but  herself 
knew  what  hours  of  pain  and  trouble  it  took  her  with  a 
bit  of  a  comb  with  three  teeth  alone  remaining,  to  re- 
duce the  tangled  mass  of  hair  to  order. 

Her  companions  stared  indeed  with  wonder  on  the  first 
afternoon,  when,  thus  transformed  and  with  clean  face, 
she  came  among  them,  with  a  new  feeling  of  shyness. 

"Why,  it  be  Nelly  Hardy!"  "Why,  Nell,  what  ha' 
done  to  t'yself?  I  shouldn't  ha'  known  ye. "  "Well, 
ye  be  cleaned  up  surely. " 

The  girl  was  half-inclined  to  flame  out  at  their  greet- 
ings, but  she  knew  that  the  surprise  was  natural,  and 
laughed  good-humoredly.      She  was  rewarded   for   her 


52  FACING  DEATH. 

pains  when  Jack  and  some  other  boys,  passing  on  their 
way  to  play,  Jack  stopped  a  moment  and  said  to  her 
quietly,  "Well  done,  lass,  thou  lookst  rarely;  who'd  ha' 
thought  thou  wert  so  comely." 

As  time  went  on  Nelly  Hardy  grew  altogether  out  of 
her  old  self.  Sometimes,  indeed,  bursts  of  temper  such 
as  those  which  had  gained  her  the  name  of  the  "Wild- 
cat," would  flare  out,  but  these  were  very  rare  now. 
She  was  still  very  poorly  dressed,  for  her  house  was  as 
wretched  as  of  old,  but  there  was  an  attempt  at  tidiness. 
Her  manner,  too,  was  softer,  and  it  became  more  and 
more  quiet  as  things  went  on,  and  her  playmates  won- 
dered again  and  again  what  had  come  over  Nell  Hardy; 
she  had  got  to  be  as  quiet  as  a  mouse. 

The  boys  at  first  were  disposed  to  joke  Jack  upon  this 
strange  friendship,  but  Jack  soon  let  it  be  understood 
that  upon  that  subject  j-oking  was  unacceptable. 

"She  stood  by  me,"  he  said,  "and  I'm  going  to  stand 
by  her.  She  ain't  got  no  friends,  and  I'm  going  to  be 
her  friend.  She's  quiet  enough  and  doan't  bother,  no 
more  nor  if  she  were  a  dorg.  She  doan't  get  in  no  one's 
way,  she  doan't  want  to  play,  and  sits  quiet  and  looks 
on,  so  if  any  of  you  doan't  like  her  near  ye,  you  can  go 
away  to  t'  other  side  o'  field.  I  wish  she'd  been  a  boy, 
'twould  ha'  been  fitter  all  ways,  but  she  can't  help  that. 
She's  got  the  sense  o'  one,  and  the  pluck,  and  I  like  her. 
There!" 


FAOJXfQ  DEATSU.  53 


CHAPTER  Vm. 


*'Bless  me,  lad,   another  poond  o'  candles!    I  neve? 

did  hear  o'  sich  waste,"  Mrs.  Haden  exclaimed  as  Jack 
entered  the  cottage  on  a  winter's  afternoon,  two  years 
and  a  half  after  he  had  gone  into  the  pit.  "Another 
poond  o'  candles,  and  it  was  only  last  Monday  as  you 
bought  the  last — nigh  two  candles  a  night.  Thou  wilt 
kill  thyself  sitting  up  reading  o'  nights,  and  thy  eyes 
will  sink  i'  thy  head,  and  thou 'It  be  as  blind  as  a  b".t 
afore  thou'rt  forty." 

"I  only  read  up  to  eleven,  mother,  that  gives  me  sis 
hours  abed,  and  as  thou  know,  six  for  a  man,  seven  for  a 
woman,  is  all  that  is  needful ;  and  as  to  the  expense,  as 
dad  lets  me  keep  all  my  earnings  save  five  bob  a  week — 
and  very  good  o'  him  it  is;  I  doan't  know  no  man  in  the 
pit  as  does  as  much — why,  I  ha'  plenty  o'  money  for  my 
candles  and  books,  and  to  lay  by  summat  for  a  rainy 
day." 

"Ay,  ay,  lad,  I  know  thou  bee'sfc  not  wasteful  save  in 
candles;  it's  thy  health  I  thinks  o'." 

"Health!"  Jack  laughed;  "why  there  ain't  a  lad  in 
the  pit  as  strong  as  I  am  of  my  age,  and  I  ha'  never  ailed 
a  day  yet,  and  doan't  mean  to." 

"What  ha'  ye  been  doing  all  the  arternoon,  Jack?" 

"I  ha'  been  sliding  in  the  big  pond  wi'  Harry  Shep- 
herd and  a  lot  o'  others.  Then  Dick  Somers,  he  knocked 
down   Hai-ry's  little   sister   Fan,  as  she  came  running 


II  FACING  DEATH. 

rcross  th*  ice,  and  lax-fed  out  when  she  cried — a  great 
brute — sol  licked  he  till  he  couldn't  see  out  o'  his  eyes." 

"He's  bigger  nor  thee,  too,"  Mrs.  Haden  said  ad- 
miringly. 

"Ay,  he's  bigger,"  Jack  said  carelessly,  "but  he  ain't 
game,  Dick  ain't;  loses  his  temper,  he  does,  and  a  chap 
as  does  that  when  he's  fighting  ain't  o'  no  account.  But 
I  must  not  stand  a  clappeting  here;  it's  past  six,  and  six 
is  my  time. " 

"Have  your  tea  first.  Jack,  it's  a'  ready;  but  I  do  be- 
lieve thou'dst  go  wi'out  eating  wi'out  noticing  it,  when 
thou'st  got  thy  books  in  thy  head." 

Jack  sat  down  and  drank  the  tea  his  mother  poured 
out  for  him,  and  devoured  bread  and  butter  with  a  zest 
that  showed  that  his  appetite  was  unimpaired  by  study. 
As  soon  as  he  had  finished  he  caught  up  his  candle,  and 
with  a  nod  to  Mrs.  Haden  ran  upstairs  to  his  room. 

Jack  Simpson's  craze  for  learning,  as  it  was  regarded 
by  the  other  lads  of  Stokebridge,  was  the  subject  cf 
much  joking  and  chaff  among  them.  Had  he  been  a  shy 
and  retiring  hoy,  holding  himself  aloof  from  the  sports 
of  his  mates,  ridicule  would  have  taken  the  place  of  jok- 
ing, and  persecution  of  chaff.  But  Jack  was  so  much 
one  of  themselves,  a  leader  in  their  games,  a  good  fellow 
all  round,  equally  ready  to  play  or  to  fight,  that  the  fact 
that  after  six  o'clock  he  shut  himself  up  in  his  room  and 
studied  was  regarded  as  something  in  the  nature  of  a 
humorous  joke. 

When  he  had  first  begun,  his  comrades  all  predicted 
that  the  fit  would  not  last,  and  that  a  few  weeks  would 
r.ee  the  end  of  it ;  but  weeks  and  months  and  years  had 
gone  by,  and  Jack  kept  on  steadily  at  the  work  he  had 
set  himself  to  do.  Amusement  had  long  died  away,  and 
there  grew  up  an  unspoken  respect  for  their  comrade. 


FACING  DEATH.  65 

*'He  be  a  rum  'un,  be  Jact,"  they  would  say;  "he 
loves  games,  and  can  lick  any  cbap  his  age  anywhere 
round,  and  yet  he  shoots  himself  oop  and  reads  and  reads 
hours  and  hours  every  da^',  and  he  knows  a  heap  Bull- 
dog does."  Not  that  Jack  was  in  the  habit  of  parading 
his  acquirements;  indeed  he  took  the  greatest  pains  to 
conceal  them  and  to  show  that  in  no  respcet  did  he  differ 
from  his  play -fellows. 

The  two  hours  which  he  now  spent  twice  a  week  with 
Mr.  Merton,  and  his  extensive  reading,  had  modified  his 
rough  Staffer dshii-e  dialect,  and  when  with  his  master  he 
gpoke  correct  English  almost  free  of  provincialisms,  al- 
though with  his  comrades  of  the  pit  he  spoke  as  they 
Bpoke,  and  never  introduced  any  allusion  to  his  studies. 
All  questions  as  to  his  object  in  spending  his  evenings 
v/ith  his  books  were  turned  aside  with  joking  answers, 
but  his  comrades  had  accidentally  discovered  that  ha 
possessed  extraordinary  powers  of  calculation.  One  of 
the  lads  had  vaguely  said  that  he  wondered  how  many 
buckets  of  water  there  were  in  the  canal  between  Stoke- 
bridge  and  Birmingham,  a  distance  of  eighteen  miles, 
and  Jack,  without  seeming  to  think  of  what  he  was 
doing,  almost  instantaneously  gave  the  answer  to  the 
Question.     For  a  moment  all  were  silent  with  surprise. 

"I  suppose  that  be  a  guess.  Jack,  eh?"  Fred  Orme 
asked. 

"Noa,"  Jack  said,  "that's  aboot  roight,  though  I  be 
Borry  I  said  it;  I  joost  reckoned  it  in  my  head. " 

"But  how  didst  do  that.  Jack?"  his  questioner  asked, 
astonished,  while  the  boys  standing  round  stared  in 
silent  wonder. 

"Oh!  in  my  head,"  Jack  said  carelessly;  "it  be  easy 
enough  to  reckon  in  your  head  if  you  practice  a  little." 

"And  canst  do  any  sum  in  thy  head,  Jack  as  quick  aa 
that?'^ 


56  FACING  DEATH. 

"Not  any  sum,  but  anything  easy,  say  up  to  the  mul- 
tiplication or  division  by  eight  figures." 

"Let's  try  him,"  one  boy  said. 

"All  right,  try  away,"  Jack  said.  "Do  it  first  on  a 
bit  of  paper,  and  then  ask  me." 

The  boys  drew  off  in  a  body,  and  a  sum  was  fixed  upon 
and  worked  out  with  a  great  deal  of  discussion. 

At  last,  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  work,  when  all  had 
gone  through  it  and  agreed  that  it  was  correct,  thsy 
returned  and  said  to  him,  "Multiply  324,683  by  459,- 
852."  Jack  thought  for  a  few  sscouds  and  then  taking 
the  pencil  and  paper  wrote  down  the  answer:  149,306,- 
126,916. 

"Why,  Jack,  thou  be'est  a  conjurer,"  one  rxclaimed, 
while  the  others  broke  out  into  a  shout  of  astonishment. 

From  that  time  it  became  an  acknowledged  fact  that 
Jack  Simpson  was  a  wonder,  and  that  there  was  some  use 
in  studying  after  all;  and  after  their  games  were  over 
they  would  sit  round  and  ask  him  questions  which  ihey 
had  laboriously  prepared,  and  the  speed  and  accuracy  of 
his  answers  were  a  never-failing  source  of  wonder  to 
them. 

As  to  his  other  studies  they  never  inquired;  it  was 
enough  for  them  that  he  could  do  this,  and  the  fact  that 
he  could  do  it  made  them  proud  of  him  in  a  Vf&y,  and 
when  put  upon  by  the  pitmen  it  became  a  common  retort 
among  them,  "Don't  thou  talk,  there's  Jack  Simpson,  he 
knows  as  much  as  thee  and  thy  mate  put  together. 
"Why,  he  can  do  a  soom  as  long  as  a  slaate  as  quick  aa 
thou'd  ask  it." 

Jack  himself  laughed  at  his  calculating  powers,  and 
told  the  boys  that  they  could  do  the  same  if  they  would 
practice,  believing  what  he  said ;  but  in  point  of  fact  this 
was  not  so,  for  the  lad  had  an  extraordinary  natural 


FACING  DEATH.  57 

faculty  for  calculation,  and  his  schoolmaster  was  often 
astonished  by  the  rapidity  with  which  he  could  prepare 
in  his  brain  long  and  complex  calculations,  and  that  in  ti 
cpMce  of  time  little  beyond  that  which  it  would  take  to 
write  the  question  upon  paper. 

So  abnormal  altogether  was  his  power  in  this  respect; 
that  Mr.  Merton  begged  him  to  discontinue  the  prr.ctice 
CI  difficult  calculation  when  at  work. 

"It  is  a  bad  thing,  Jack,  to  give  undue  prominence  to 
one  description  of  mental  labor,  and  I  fear  that  j'ou  will 
injure  your  brain  if  you  are  always  exercising  it  in  one 
direction.  Therefore  when  in  the  pit  think  over  other 
subjects,  history,  geography,  what  you  will,  but  leave 
calculations  alone  except  when  you  have  your  books  be- 
fore you." 


ga  FAGINQ  DEATU. 


CHAPTEK    IX. 


AT     STKI 


It  wa8  Saturday  afternoon,  a  time  at  which  Stoke- 
bridge  was  generally  lively.  The  men  (dinner  ever,  and 
the  great  weekly  wash  done)  usually  crowded  the  public- 
houses,  or  played  bowls  and  quoits  on  a  piece  of  waste 
land  known  as  "the  common,"  or  set  off  upon  a  spree  to 
Birmingham  or  Wolverhampton,  or  sat  on  low  walls  or 
other  handy  seats,  and  smoked  and  talked.  But  upon  this 
special  Saturday  afternoon  no  one  settled  down  to  his 
ordinary  pursuits,  for  the  men  stood  talking  in  groups  in 
the  street,  until,  as  the  hour  of  four  approached,  there 
was  a  general  move  toward  the  common.  Hither,  too, 
came  numbers  of  men  from  the  colliery  villages  round, 
imtil  some  four  or  five  thousand  were  gathered  in  front 
of  an  old  "waste  tip"  at  one  corner  of  the  common. 
Presently  a  group  of  some  five  or  six  men  came  up  to- 
gether, made  their  way  through  the  throng,  and  took 
their  stand  on  the  edge  of  the  tip,  some  twenty  feet  above 
the  crowd.  These  were  the  delegates,  the  men  sent  by 
the  union  to  persuade  the  colliers  of  Stokebridge  and  its 
neighborhood  to  join  in  a  general  strike  for  a  rise  of 
wages. 

The  women  of  the  village  stand  at  their  doors,  and 
watch  the  men  go  off  to  the  meeting,  and  then  comment 
to  each  other  concerning  it. 

"I  ain't  no  patience  wi'  'em,  Mrs.  Haden,"  said  one 
of  a  group  of  neighbors  who  had  gathered  in  front  of  her 


FACING  DEATH.  59 

house;  "I  don't  hold  by  strikes.  I  have  gone  through 
three  of  'em,  bad  'uns,  besides  a  score  of  small  'uns,  and  I 
never  knowed  good  come  on  'em.  I  lost  my  little  Pe-^ 
in  the  last — low  fever,  the  doctor  called  it,  but  it  was 
Btarvation  and  nothing  more." 

"If  I  had  my  way,"  said  Mrs.  Haden,  "I'd  just  wring 
the  heads  off  they  delegates.  They  come  here  and 
'suades  our  men  to  go  out  and  clem  rather  than  take  o, 
shilling  a  week  less,  just  a  glass  o'  beer  a  day,  and  they 
gets  their  pay  and  lives  in  comfort,  and  dunua  care  nowt 
if  us  and  th'  childer  all  dies  off  together." 

"Talk  o'  woman's  rights,  as  one  hears  about,  and 
woman's  having  a  vote ;  we  ought  to  have  a  vote  as  to 
strikes.  It's  us  as  bears  the  worse  o't,  and  we  ought  to 
have  a  say  on't;  if  we  did  there  wouldn't  be  another' 
strike  in  the  country." 

"It's  a  burning  shame,"  another  chimed  in;  "here  U3 
and  the  childer  will  have  to  starve  for  weeks,  months 
maybe,  and  all  the  homes  will  be  broke  up,  and  the  fur- 
niture, which  has  took  so  long  to  get  together,  put  away 
just  because  the  men  won't  do  with  one  glass  of  beer 
less  a  day. ' ' 

"The  union's  the  curse  of  us  a',"  Mrs.  Haden  said. 
"I  know  what  it'll  be — fifteen  bob  a  week  for  the  first 
fortnight,  and  then  twelve  for  a  week,  and  then  ten,  and 
then  eight,  and  then  six,  and  then  after  we've  clemmed 
on  that  for  a  month  or  two,  the  union  '11  say  as  the  funds 
is  dry,  and  the  men  had  best  go  to  work  on  the  reduc- 
tion. I  knows  their  ways,  and  they're  a  cuss  to  U3 
women." 

"Here  bee'st  thy  Jack.     He  grows  a  proper  lad  that." 

"Ay,"  Jane  Haden  agreed,  "he's  a  good  lad,  none 
better;  and  as  for  learning,  the  books  that  boy  knows  ia 
awesome;  there's  shelves  upon  shelves  on  'em  upstairs. 


60  FACING  DEATH. 

and  I  do  believe  he's  read  'em  all  a  dozen  times.  Weil^ 
Jack,  have  'ee  cum  from  meeting?" 

"Ay,  mother;  I  heard  them  talk  nonsense  till  I  was 
nigh  sick,  and  then  I  corned  away." 

"And  will  they  go  for  the  strike,  Jack?" 

"Ay,  they'll  go,  like  sheep  through  a  gate.  There's 
hf^lf  a  dozen  or  so  would  go  t'other  way,  but  the  rest  won't 
listen  to  them.  So  for  the  sake  of  a  shilling  a  week  we're 
going  to  lose  thirty  shillings  a  week  for  perhaps  twenty 
weeks;  so  if  we  win  we  shan't  get  the  money  we've 
throw 'd  away  for  twenty  times  thirty  weeks,  mother,  and 
that  makes  eleven  j-^ears  and  twenty-eight  weeks." 

Jack  Simpson  was  now  sixteen  years  old,  not  very  tall 
for  his  age,  but  square  and  set.  His  face  was  a  pleasant 
one,  in  spite  of  his  closely  cropped  hair.  He  had  a 
bright,  fearless  eye  and  a  pleasant  smile;  but  the  squaio 
chin,  and  the  firm,  determined  lines  of  the  mouth  when 
in  rest,  showed  that  his  old  appellation  of  Bulldog  still 
suited  him  well.  After  working  for  four  years  as  a  gate- 
boy  and  two  years  with  the  wagons,  he  had  just  gone  in 
to  work  with  his  adopted  father  in  the  stall,  filling  the 
coal  in  the  wagon  as  it  was  got  down,  helping  to  drive 
the  wedges,  and  at  times  to  use  the  pick.  As  the  getters 
■ — as  the  colliers  working  at  bringing  down  the  coal  are 
called — are  paid  by  the  ton,  many  of  the  men  have  a 
strong  lad  working  with  them  as  assistant. 

"Is  t'  dad  like  to  be  at  home  soon.  Jack?"  Mrs.  Haden 
asked,  as  she  followed  him  into  the  house. 

"Not  he,  mother.  They  pretty  well  all  will  be  getting 
themselves  in  order  for  earning  nothing  by  getting  drunk 
to-night,  and  dad's  not  slack  at  that.  Have  ycu  got  tea 
ready,  mother?" 

"Ay,  lad." 

"I've  made  up  my  mind,  mother,"  the  boy  said,  as  he 


FACING  DEATH.  61 

ate  his  slice  of  bacon  and  bread,  "that  I  shall  go  over  to 
Birmingham  to-morrow,  and  try  to  get  work  there. 
John  Ratcliff,  the  enginemau,  is  going  to  write  a  letter 
for  me  to  some  mates  of  his  there.  The  last  two  yearn, 
v>'hen  I've  been  on  the  night  shift,  I  have  gone  in  and 
holped  him  a  bit  pretty  often  in  the  day,  so  as  to  get  to 
know  something  about  an  engine,  and  to  be  able  to  do  a 
job  of  smith's  work;  anyhow,  he  thinks  I  can  get  a  berth 
as  a  striker  or  something  of  that  sort.  I'd  rather  go  at 
ouce,  for  there  will  be  plenty  of  hands  looking  out  for  a 
job  before  long,  when  the  pinch  begins,  and  I  don't 
want  to  be  idle  here  at  home." 

"They've  promised  to  give  some  sort  o'  allowance  to 
nonunionists.  Jack." 

"Yes,  mother,  but  I'd  rather  earn  it  honestly.  I'm 
too  young  to  join  the  union  yet,  but  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  long  ago  never  to  do  it.  I  mean  to  be  my  owa 
master,  and  I  ain't  going  to  be  told  by  a  pack  of  fellows 
at  Stafford  or  Birmingham  whether  I  am  to  work  or  not, 
and  how  much  I  am  to  do,  and  how  many  tubs  I  am  to 
fill.  No,  mother,  I  wasn't  born  a  slave  that  I  know  of, 
and  certainly  don't  mean  to  become  one  voluntarily." 

"Lor,  how  thou  dost  talk.  Jack!  Who'd  take  'ee  to 
be  a  pitman?" 

"I  don't  want  to  be  taken  for  anything  that  I  am  not, 
mother.  "What  with  reading  and  with  going,  two  hours 
twice  a  week  of  an  evening  for  six  years,  to  talk  and  work 
with  Mr.  Merton,  I  hope  I  can  express  mj'self  properly 
when  I  choose.  As  you  know,  when  I'm  away  from  you 
I  talk  as  others  do,  for  I  hate  any  one  to  make  remarks. 
If  the  time  ever  comes  when  I  am  to  take  a  step  up,  it 
will  be  time  enough  for  them  to  talk;  at  present,  all  that 
the  other  lads  think  of  me  is,  that  I  am  fond  of  reading, 
and  that  I  can  lick  any  fellow  of  my  own  age  in  tha 


63  FACING  DEATH. 

mine,"  and  he  laughed  lightly.  "And  now,  mother,  I 
shall  go  in  and  tell  Mr,  Merton  -what  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  do." 

Mr.  Merton  listened  to  Jack's  report  of  his  plans  in 
silence,  and  then  after  a  long  pause  said : 

"I  have  been  for  some  time  intending  to  talk  seriously 
to  you,  Jack,  about  your  future,  and  the  present  is  a 
good  time  for  broaching  the  subject.  You  see,  my  boy, 
you  have  worked  very  hard,  and  have  thrown  your  whole 
strength  into  it  for  six  years.  You  have  given  no  time 
to  the  classics  or  modern  languages,  but  have  put  your 
whole  heart  into  mathematics ;  you  have  a  natural  talent 
for  it,  and  you  have  had  the  advantage  of  a  good  teacher. 
I  may  say  bo,"  he  said,  "for  I  was  third  wrangler  at 
Cambridge." 

"You,  sir!"  Jack  exclaimed  in  astonishment. 

"Yes,  lad,  you  may  well  be  surprised  at  seeing  a  third 
wrangler  a  village  schoolmaster,  but  you  might  find,  if 
you  searched,  many  men  who  took  as  high  a  degree  in 
even  more  humble  positions.  I  took  a  fellowship,  and 
lived  for  many  years  quietly  upon  it;  then  I  married, 
and  forfeited  my  fellowship.  I  thought,  like  many  other 
men,  that  because  I  had  taken  a  good  degree  I  could  earn 
my  living.  There  is  no  greater  mistake.  I  had  abso- 
lutely no  knowledge  that  was  useful  that  way.  I  tried 
to  write;  I  tried  to  get  pupils;  I  failed  all  round. 
Thirteen  years  ago,  after  two  years  of  marriage,  my  wife 
died ;  and  in  despair  of  otherwise  earning  my  bread,  and 
sick  of  the  struggle  I  had  gone  through,  I  applied  for 
this  little  mastership,  obtained  it,  and  came  down  with 
Alice,  then  a  baby  of  a  year  old.  I  chafed  at  first,  but 
I  am  contented  now,  and  no  one  knows  that  Mr.  Merton 
is  an  ex-fellow  of  St.  John's.  I  had  still  a  little  property 
remaining,  just  enough  to  have  kept  Alice  always  at  a 


FACING  DEATH.  G3 

good  school.  I  do  not  think  I  shall  stay  here  mucli 
longer.  I  shall  try  to  get  a  larger  school,  in  some  town 
where  I  may  find  a  few  young  men  to  teach  of  an  even- 
ing. I  am  content  for  myself;  but  Alice  is  growing  up, 
and  I  should  wish,  for  her  sake,  to  get  a  step  up  in  the 
world  again.  I  need  not  say,  my  lad,  that  I  don't  want 
this  mentioned.  Alice  and  you  alone  know  my  story. 
So  you  see,"  he  went  on  more  lightly,  "I  may  say  you 
have  had  a  good  teacher.  Now,  Jack,  you  are  very  high 
up  in  mathematics.  Far  higher  than  I  was  at  your  age ; 
raid  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  you  will  in  a 
couple  of  years  be  able  to  take  the  best  open  scholarship 
of  the  year  at  Cambridge,  if  you  try  for  it.  That  woiild 
keep  you  at  college,  and  you  might  hope  confidently  to 
come  out  at  least  as  high  as  I  did,  and  to  secure  a  fellow- 
ship, which  means  three  or  four  hundred  a  year,  till  yon 
marry.  But  to  go  through  the  university  you  must  have 
a  certain  amount  of  Latin  and  Greek.  You  Lave  a  good 
two  years  before  you  have  to  go  up,  and  if  you  devote 
yourself  as  steadily  to  classics  as  you  have  to  mathemat- 
ics, you  could  get  up  enough  to  scrape  through  with. 
Don't  give  me  any  answer  now,  Jack.  The  idea  is,  of 
course,  new  to  you.  Think  it  very  quietly  over,  and  we 
can  talk  about  it  next  time  you  come  over  from  Birming- 
ham." 

"Yes,  sir,  thank  you  very  much,"  Jack  said  quietly; 
"only,  please  tell  me,  do  you  yourself  recommend  it?" 

The  schoolmaster  was  silent  for  awhile. 

"I  do  not  recommend  one  waj'  or  the  other.  Jack.  I 
would  rather  leave  it  entirely  to  you.  You  would  be 
certain  to  do  well  in  one  way  there.  You  are,  I  believe, 
equally  certain  to  do  well  here,  but  your  advance  ma3'  be 
very  much  slower.  And  now.  Jack,  let  us  lay  it  asido 
for  to-night.  I  am  just  going  to  have  tea;  I  hope  you 
will  take  a  cup  with  ua." 


64  FACING  DEATH. 

Jack  colored  with  pleasure.  It  was  the  first  time  that 
such  an  invitation  had  been  given  to  him,  and  he  felt  it 
as  the  first  recognition  yet  made  that  he  was  something 
more  than  an  ordinary  pit-boy;  but  for  all  that  he  felt, 
when  he  followed  his  master  into  the  next  I'oom,  that 
he  would  have  rather  been  anywhere  else. 

It  was  a  tiny  room,  but  daintily  furnished — a  room 
such  as  Jack  had  never  seen  before;  and  by  the  fire  sat  a 
girl  readingo  She  put  down  her  book,  as  her  father 
entered  with  a  bright  smile ;  but  her  eyes  opened  a  little 
wider  in  surprise  as  Jack  followed  him  in. 

"My  dear  Alice,  this  is  my  pupil.  Jack  Simpson,  who 
is  going  to  do  me  great  credit,  and  make  a  figure  in  the 
world  some  day.  Jack,  this  is  my  daughter,  Mis3 
Merton." 

Alice  held  out  her  hand. 

"I  have  heard  papa  speak  of  you  so  often,"  she  said, 
"and  of  course  I  have  seen  you  come  in  and  out  some- 
times when  I  have  been  home  for  the  holidaj^s. " 

"I  have  seen  you  in  church,"  Jack  said,  making  a 
tremendous  effort  to  shake  off  his  awkwardness. 

Jack  Simpson  will  to  the  end  of  his  life  look  back  upon 
that  hour  as  the  most  uncomfortable  he  ever  spent. 
Then  for  the  first  time  he  discovered  that  his  boots  were 
very  heavy  and  thick;  then  for  the  first  time  did  his 
hands  and  feet  seem  to  get  in  his  way,  and  to  require 
thought  as  to  what  was  to  be  done  with  them ;  and  at 
the  time  he  concluded  that  white  lace  curtains,  and  a 
pretty  carpet,  and  tea  poured  out  by  a  chatty  and  de- 
cidedly pretty  young  lady  was  by  no  means  such  com- 
fortable institiitions  as  might  have  been  expected. 

It  was  two  months  from  the  commencement  of  the 
strike  before  Jack  Simpson  returned  from  Birmingham, 
coming  home  to  stay  from  Saturday  till  Monday.     Noth- 


FACING  DEATH.  (^ 

mg  can  be  mere  discouragius  than  the  appearance  of  a 
colliery  village  where  the  hands  are  on  strike.  For  tha 
first  week  or  two  there  is  much  bravado,  and  anticipation 
of  early  victory ;  and  as  money  is  still  plentiful,  the  pub- 
lic houses  do  a  great  trade.  But  as  the  stern  reality  of 
the  struggle  becomes  felt,  a  gloom  falls  over  the  place. 
The  men  hang  about  listlessly  and  from  time  to  time 
straggle  down  to  the  committee-room,  to  hear  the  last 
news  from  the  other  places  to  which  the  strike  extends, 
and  to  try  to  gather  a  little  confidence  therefrom.  At 
Urst  things  always  look  well.  Meetings  are  held  in  other 
centers,  and  promises  of  support  flow  in.  For  a  time 
money  arrives  freely,  and  the  union  committee  make  an 
allowance  to  each  member,  which,  far  below  his  regular 
pay  as  it  is,  is  still  amply  sufficient  for  his  absolute 
wants.  But  by  the  end  of  two  months  the  enthusiasm 
which  the  strike  excited  elsewhere  dies  out,  the  levies 
fall  off  and  the  weekly  money  scarce  enables  life  to  be 
kept  together. 

It  is  distinctive  of  almost  all  strikes  that  the  women, 
beforehand  averse  to  the  movement,  when  it  has  once 
begun,  throw  themselves  heartily  into  the  struggle. 
From  the  time  it  is  fairly  entered  upon  until  its  termina- 
tion it  is  rare  indeed  to  hear  a  collier's  wife  speak  a  word 
against  it.  V7hen  the  hardest  pinch  comes,  and  the  chil- 
drens'  faces  grow  thin  and  white,  and  the  rooms  are 
stripped  of  furniture,  much  as  the  women  may  long  for 
an  end  of  it,  they  never  grumble,  never  pray  their  hus- 
bands to  give  in.  This  patient  submission  to  their 
husband's  wills — this  silent  bearing  of  the  greatest  of 
suffering,  namely,  to  see  children  suffer  and  to  be  unable 
to  relieve  them — is  one  of  the  most  marked  features  of 
all  great  strikes  in  the  coal  districts. 

""Well,  mother,  and  how  goes  it?"  Jack  asked  cheer- 
fully after  the  first  greetings. 


e6  FACING  DEATH. 

"We  be  all  right,  Jack;  if  we  ain't  we  ought  to  be, 
when  we've  got  no  children  to  keep,  and  get  nigh  aa 
much  as  them  as  has." 

"Eight  shillings  a  week  now,  ain't  it?" 

Mrs.  Haden  nodded.     Jack  looked  round. 

"Halloo!"  he  said,  "the  clock's  gone,  and  the  new 
carpet ! ' ' 

"Well,  you  see,  my  boy,"  Mrs.  Haden  said  hesitat- 
ingly, "Bill  is  downhearted  sometimes,  and  he  wants  a 
drop  of  comfort. ' ' 

"I  understand,"  Jack  said  significantly. 

"Jack" — and  she  again  spoke  hesitatingly — ^"I  wish 
ee'd  carry  off  all  they  books  out  o'  thy  little  room. 
There's  scores  of  'em,  and  the  smallest  would  fetch  a 
glass  o'  beer.  I've  kept  the  door  locked,  but  it  might 
tempt  him,  my  boy — not  when  he's  in  his  right  senses, 
you  know;  he'd  scorn  to  do  such  a  thing;  but  when  he 
gets  half  on,  and  has  no  more  money,  and  credit  stopped, 
the  craving's  too  much  for  him,  and  he'd  sell  the  bed 
from  under  him — anything  he's  got,  I  do  believe,  except 
his  pups;"  and  she  pointed  to  some  of  Juno's  great- 
grand  children.  Which  were,  as  usual,  lying  before  the 
fire,  a  mere  handful  of  coal  now,  in  comparison  with  past 
times. 

"I'll  pick  out  a  parcel  of  them  that  will  be  useful  to 
me,"  Jack  said,  "and  take  them  away.  The  rest  may 
go.  And  now  look  here,  mother.  After  paying  you  for 
my  board,  I  have  had  for  a  long  time  now  some  eight 
shillings  a  week  over.  I  have  spent  some  in  books,  but 
second-hand  books  are  very  cheap — as  dad  will  find  when 
he  tries  to  sell  them.  So  I've  got  some  money  put  by. 
It  don't  matter  how  much,  but  plenty  to  keep  the  wolf 
away  while  the  strike  lasts.  But  I  don't  mean,  mother, 
to  have  my   savings  drunk  away.     I'm  getting  sixteen 


FACIJSG  DEATH.  61* 

bob  a  week,  and  I  can  live  on  ten  or  eleven,  so  I'll  send 
you  live  shillings  a  week.  But  dad  mustn't  know  it. 
I'll  be  home  in  a  month  again,  and  I'll  leave  you  a 
pound,  so  that  you  can  get  food  in.  If  he  thinks  about 
it  at  all,  which  ain't  likely,  you  can  make  out  you  get  it 
on  tick.  Well,  dad,  how  arc  you?"  he  asked,  as  Bill 
Haden  entered  the  cottage. 

"Ah,  Jack,  lad,  how  be  it  with  'ee?" 

"All  right,  dad;  getting  on  well.  And  how  are  things 
here?" 

"Bad,  Jack.  Those  scoundrels,  the  masters,  they 
won't  give  in;  but  we're  bound  to  beat  'em — bound  to. 
If  they  don't  come  to  our  terms  we  mean  to  call  the  en- 
ginemen,  and  the  hands  they've  got  to  keep  the  ways 
clear,  out  of  the  pits.  That'll  bring  'em  to  their  senses 
quick  enough.     I've  been  for  it  all  along." 

"Call  off  the  engine-hands!"  Jack  said,  in  tones  of 
alarm;  "you  ain't  going  to  do  such  a  mad  thing  as  that! 
Why,  if  the  water  gains,  and  the  mines  get  flooded,  it'll 
be  weeks,  and  maybe  months,  before  the  mines  can  be 
cleared  and  put  in  working  order;  and  what  v*-ill  you  all 
be  doing  while  that's  being  done?" 

"It'll  bring  'em  to  their  senses,  lad,"  Bill  Haden  said, 
bringing  his  hand  down  on  the  table  with  a  thump. 
"They  mean  to  starve  us;  we'll  ruin  them.  There,  let's 
have  the  price  of  a  quart.  Jack;  I'm  dry." 

Jack  saw  that  argument  against  this  mad  scheme 
would  be  of  no  use,  for  his  foster-father  was  already  half- 
drunk,  so  he  handed  him  a  shilling,  and  with  a  shrug  of 
his  shoulders  walked  off  to  Mr.  Merton's. 

He  had  long  since  written  to  his  master,  saying  that 
he  preferred  working  his  way  up  slowly  in  mining,  to 
entering  upon  a  new  1  ife,  in  which,  however  successful 
he  might  be  at  college,  the  after  course  was  not  clear  to 


68  FACma  DEATH. 

iiim ;  and  his  teacher  had  answered  in  a  tone  of  approval  o* 
bis  choice. 

On  his  way  he  stopped  at  the  houses  of  many  of  his 
boy  friends,  and  was  shocked  at  the  misery  which  already 
prevailed  in  some  of  them.  Harry  Shepherd's  home  was 
no  better  than  the  others. 

"Why,  Harry,  I  should  scarce  have  known  you,"  ha 
said,  as  the  lad  came  to  the  door  when  he  opened  it  and 
called  him.     "You  look  bad,  surely." 

"We're  a  big  family.  Jack;  and  the  extra  childrens* 
allowance  was  dropped  last  week.  There's  eight  of  us, 
and  food's  scarce.  Little  Annie's  going  fast,  I  think. 
The  doctor  came  this  morning,  and  said  she  wanted 
strengthening  food.  He  might  as  well  ha'  ordered  her  a 
coach-and-four.  Baby  died  last  week,  and  mother's 
ailing.  You  were  right.  Jack;  what  fools  y^e  were  to 
strike!  I've  been  miles  round  looking  for  a  job,  but  it's 
no  use;  there's  fifty  asking  for  every  place  open." 

The  tears  came  into  Jack's  eyes  as  he  looked  at  tho 
pinched  face  of  his  friend. 

"Why  did  you  not  write  to  me?"  he  asked,  almost 
angrily.  "I  told  you  where  a  letter  would  find  me;  and 
here  are  you  all  clemming,  and  me  know  naught  of  it. 
It's  too  bad.  Now  look  here,  Harry,  I  must  lend  you 
some  money — you  know  I've  got  some  put  by,  and  3^ou 
and  your  father  can  pay  me  when  good  times  come  again. 
Your  dad  gets  his  eight  shillings  from  the  union,  I  sup- 


pose 


"Yes,"  the  lad  answered, 

"Well,  with  fifteen  shillings  a  week  you  could  make  a 
shift  to  get  on.  So  I'll  send  you  ten  shillings  a  week  for 
a  bit;  that'll  be  seven  shillings  to  add  to  the  eight, 
and  the  other  three  will  get  meat  to  make  broth  for 
Annie.     The  strike  can't  last  much  over  another   month, 


FACIUa  LEATE.  69 

£r:d  tliat  won't  hurt  me  one  v/ay  or  the  other.  Here's 
the  hrst  tea  shillings;  put  it  in  your  pocket,  and  then 
come  round  with  me  to  the  butcher  and  I'll  get  a  few 
pounds  of  meat  just  to  start  you  all.  There,  don't  cry, 
and  don't  say  anything,  else  I'll  lick  you." 

But  when  Jack  himself  entered  the  schoolmaster's 
house,  and  was  alone  with  Mr.  Merton,  he  threw  himself 
in  a  chair  and  burst  into  tears. 

"It  is  awful,  sir,  awful.  To  see  those  little  children, 
who  were  so  noisy  and  bright  when  I  went  away,  so  pale, 
and  thin,  and  quiet  now.  Poor  little  things!  poor  little 
things!  As  to  the  men,  they  are  starving  because  they 
don't  choose  to  work,  and  if  thej'  like  it,  let  them;  even 
the  women  I  don't  pity  so  much,  for  if  they  did  right 
they  woiild  take  broomsticks  and  drive  the  men  to  work; 
but  the  children,  it's  di'eadful!" 

"It  is  dreadful,  Jack,  and  it  makes  me  feel  sick  and  ill 
when  I  go  into  the  infant-school.  The  clergyman's  wife 
has  opened  a  sort  of  soup-kitchen,  and  a  hundred  chil- 
dren get  a  bowl  of  soup  and  a  piece  of  bread  at  dinner- 
time every  day,  and  they  sell  soup  under  cost  price  to 
the  women.  Mr.  Brook  has  given  fifty  pounds  toward 
it." 

"Look  here,  sir,"  Jack  said;  "you  know  I've  over  fifty 
pounds  laid  by — and  money  can't  be  better  spent  than 
for  the  children.  The  strike  can't  last  over  a  month,  or 
six  weeks  at  the  outside,  and  maybe  not  that.  I'll  give 
you  three  pounds  a  week,  if  you  will  kindly  hand  it  over 
to  Mrs.  Street,  and  say  it's  been  sent  you.  But  it's  to 
go  to  feeding  children.  Let  me  see;  the  soup  don't 
cost  above  a  penny  a  bowl,  and  say  a  halfpenny  for  a 
hunch  of  bread.  So  that  will  give  a  good  many  of 
'em   a  dinner  every  day.     Will  you  do  that  for  me,  sir?" 

"I  will,  my  boy,"  Mr.  Merton  said  heartily.  "You 
may  save  many  a  young  life." 


^0  FACING  DEATH. 

"Well,  sir,  and  what  do  you  think  of  things?" 

"I  fear  we  shall  have  trouble,  Jack,  Last  night  there 
was  rioting  over  at  Crawfurd;  a  manager's  house  was 
burned  down,  and  some  policemen  badly  hurt.  There  is 
angry  talk  all  over  the  district,  and  I  fear  we  shall  have 
it  here." 

When  Jack  started  en  Sunday  evening  for  Birming- 
ham, his  last  words  to  his  mother  were : 

"Mind,  mother,  the  very  first  word  you  hear  about 
violence  or  assault,  you  post  this  envelope  I  have  directed 
to  me.  I  will  come  straight  back.  I'll  keep  father  out 
of  it  somehow;  and  I'll  do  all  I  can  to  save  Mr.  Brook's 
property.  He's  a  good  master,  and  he's  been  specially 
kind  to  me,  and  I  won't  have  him  or  his  property 
injured." 

"Why,  lak  a'  mercy.  Jack,  you  ain't  going  to  fight 
the  whole  place  all  by  yourself,  are  you  now?" 

"I  don't  know  what  I  am  going  to  do  3'et, "  Jack  said; 
*'but  you  may  be  quite  sure  I  shall  do  something." 

And  as  his  mother  looked  at  the  set  bulldog  espres- 
Bion  of  his  mouth  and  jaw,  she  felt  that  Jack  was  thor^ 
oughly  in  earnest. 


FACIIia  DEATH.  <^l 


CHAPTER    X. 


HARD  TIMES. 


It  was  when  the  pinch  came,  the  subscriptions  fell  off, 
and  the  weekly  payments  by  the  union  dwindled  to  a  few 
shillings  for  the  support  of  a  whole  family,  that  the 
rough  virtues  of  the  people  of  the  mining  districts  came 
strongly  into  prominence.  Starvation  was  doing  its  work, 
and  it  told  first  upon  the  women  and  children.  Little 
faces,  awhile  since  so  rosy  and  bright,  grew ,  thin  and 
pinched,  chubby  arms  shrank  until  the  bone  could  almost 
be  seen  through  the  skin,  and  low  fever,  a  sure  accom- 
paniment of  want,  made  its  appearance. 

No  more  tender  and  devoted  nurses  could  be  found  than 
the  rough  women,  who  hushed  their  voices  and  stole 
"with  quiet  feet  around  the  little  beds,  letting  fall  many 
a  silent  tear  when  the  sufferer  asked  for  little  things,  for 
tea  or  lemonade,  which  there  were  no  means  to  purchase, 
or  when  the  doctor  shook  his  head  and  said  that  good 
food  and  not  medicine  was  needed. 

The  pitmen  themselves  would  saunter  aimlessly  in  and 
out  of  the  houses,  so  changed  from  the  cottages  well 
stocked  with  furniture,  with  gay-colored  pictures  on  the 
wall,  an  eight-day  clock,  and  many  another  little  valua- 
ble, and  all  gone  one  after  another.  Very  many  of  them 
lived  upon  the  scantiest  allowance  of  dry  bread  which 
would  keep  life  together,  in  order  that  the  allowance 
might  all  go  for  the  children,  retaining  as  their  sole 
luxury  a  penny  or  two  a  week  for  the  purchase  of  a  pipe 


"^2  FACING  BE  ATE. 

or  two  of  tobacco  daily.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  soiy^ 
kitclien  scores  of  children  would  have  died,  but  the  piOT^ 
of  soup  and  the  slice  of  bread  enabled  them  to  live. 

There  was  no  talk  of  surrender  yet,  although  compro- 
mises, which  would  at  first  have  been  indignantly  re- 
jected, were  now  discussed,  and  a  deputation  had  waited 
upon  Mr.  Brook,  but  the  owner  refused  to  enter  into  any 
compromise. 

"No,  never,"  he  said,  "you  have  chosen  to  join  the 
hands  of  the  other  pits  in  an  endeavor  to  force  your  em- 
ployers into  giving  you  a  higher  rate  of  wages  than  they 
can  afford  to  pay.  I,  therefore,  have  joined  the  other 
empioj'ers.  We  know,  what  you  cannot  know,  what  ara 
our  expenses,  and  what  we  can  afford  to  pay,  and  we  will 
accept  no  dictation  whatever  from  the  men  as  to  their 
rate  of  wages.  If  I  prefer,  as  I  do  prefer,  that  the  col- 
liery should  stand  idle,  to  raising  your  rate  of  wages,  it 
is  a  clear  proof  that  I  should  lose  money  if  I  agreed  to 
your  demand.  If  needs  be  I  would  rather  that  the  pit 
was  closed  for  a  year,  or  for  ten  years.  We  have  bound 
ourselves  together  to  make  no  advance,  just  as  you  have 
bound  yourselves  not  to  go  to  work  at  the  oh^  rate. 
When  you  choose  to  go  in  at  that  rate  there  a.  j  your 
places  ready  for  you,  but  I  will  give  way  in  i  single 
point.  I  will  not  pay  a  half-penny  a  ton  more  '  aan  be- 
fore. You  best  knov/how  long  you  can  hold  out.  Don't 
let  it  be  too  long,  lads,  for  the  sake  of  your  wives  and 
children;  remember  that  the  time  may  come  when  think- 
ing over  some  empty  chair,  recalling  some  little  face  3'ou 
will  never  see  again,  you  will  curse  your  folly  and  obsti- 
nacy in  ruining  your  homes,  and  destroj'ing  those  depend- 
ent upon  you  in  a  struggle  in  which  it  was  from  the  first 
certain  that  you  could  not  win,  and  in  which  even  if  you 
v/on  the  amount  at  stake  is  not  worth  one  day  of  the 
suffering  which  you  are  inflicting  upon  those  you  love. " 


FACING  DEATH.  '^3 

♦  Left  to  tbecaselves  the  men  would  have  much  sooner 
given  in,  would  indeed  never  Lave  embarked  on  the  strike ; 
but  the  influence  of  the  union  being  over  them  they 
feared  to  be  called  "black  sheep,"  and  to  be  taunted  with 
deserting  the  general  cause,  and  so  the  strike  went  on. 

The  tale  of  the  suffering  over  the  wide  district  affected 
by  the  strike  was  told  through  the  land  and  the  subscrip- 
tions of  the  benevolent  flowed  in.  Public  opinion  was, 
however,  strongly  opposed  to  the  strike,  and  for  the  most 
part  the  money  was  subscribed  wholly  for  soup-kitchens 
for  children  and  for  relief  of  the  sick.  But  the  area  was 
wide,  there  were  scores  of  villages  as  badly  off  as  Stoke- 
bridge,  and  the  share  of  each  of  the  general  fund  was 
very  small.  A  local  committee  was  formed,  of  which  the 
vicar  was  at  the  head,  for  the  management  of  the  funds, 
and  for  organizing  a  body  of  nurses.  All  the  women 
who  had  no  children  of  their  own  were  enrolled  upon  its 
lists,  and  many  of  the  girls  of  the  sewing-class  volun- 
teered their  services. 

No  one  during  this  sad  time  devoted  herself  more  un- 
tiringly and  devotedly  than  Nelly  Hardy.  The  quiet 
manner,  the  steady  and  resolute  face,  rendered  her  an  ex- 
cellent nurse,  and  as  her  father  and  mother  were,  per- 
force, sober,  she  could  devote  her  whole  time  to  the 
work.  A  portion  of  the  funds  was  devoted  to  the  prep- 
aration of  the  articles  of  food  and  drink  necessary  for 
the  sick,  and  the  itchen  of  the  schoolroom  was  freely 
employed  in  making  milk-puddings,  barley-water,  and 
other  things  which  brought  pleasure  and  alleviation  to 
the  parched  little  lips  for  which  they  were  intended. 

The  distress  grew  daily  more  intense.  The  small 
traders  could  no  longer  give  credit;  the  pawnbrokers 
were  so  overburdened  with  household  goods  that  they 
■were  obliged  absolutely  to  decline  to  receive  more;  the 


74  FAGINQ  DEATH. 

doctors  were  worn  out  with  work;  the  guardians  of  the 
poor  were  nearlj'  beside  themselves  in  their  efforts  to 
face  the  frightful  distress  prevailing;  and  the  charitable 
committee,  aided  as  they  were  by  subscriptions  from 
without,  could  still  do  but  little  in  comparison  to  tha 
great  need.  Jane  Haden  and  the  other  women  without 
families  did  their  best  to  help  nurse  in  the  houses  where 
sickness  was  rife.  The  children  were  mere  shadows,  and 
the  men  and  women,  although  far  less  reduced,  were  yet 
worn  and  wasted  by  want  of  food.  And  still  the  strike 
went  on,  still  the  men  held  out  against  the  reduction. 
Some  of  the  masters  had  brought  men  from  other  parts, 
and  these  had  to  be  guarded  to  and  from  their  work  by 
strong  bodies  of  police,  and  several  serious  encounters 
had  taken  place.  Some  of  the  hands  were  wavering  now, 
but  the  party  of  resistance  grew  more  and  more  violent, 
and  the  waverers  dared  not  raise  their  voices.  The  dele- 
gates of  the  union  went  about  holding  meetings,  and 
assuring  their  hearers  that  the  masters  were  on  the  point 
of  being  beaten,  and  must  give  way;  but  they  were  lis- 
tened to  in  sullen  and  gloomy  silence  by  the  men.  Then 
came  muttered  threats  and  secret  gatherings;  and  then 
Jane  Haden,  obedient  to  her  promise,  but  very  doubtful 
as  to  its  wisdom,  posted  the  letter  Jack  had  left  with 
her. 

It  was  three  o'clock  next  day  before  he  arrived,  for  he 
had  not  received  the  letter  until  he  went  out  for  his 
breakfast,  and  he  had  to  go  back  to  his  work  and  ask  to 
be  allowed  to  go  away  for  the  afternoon  on  particular 
business,  for  which  he  was  wanted  at  home. 

"Well,  mother,  what  is  it?"  was  his, first  question  on 
entering. 

"I  oughtn't  to  tell  'ee  Jack,  and  I  do  believe  Bill 
■would  kill  me  if  he  knew." 


FACING  DEATH.  73 

•*He  won't  know,  mother,  and  you  must  tell  me," 
Jack  said  quietly. 

"Well,  my  boy,  yesterday  afternoon  Bill  came  in  here 
with  eight  or  ten  others.  I  were  upstairs,  but  I  suppose 
they  thought  I  were  out,  and  as  I  did  not  want  to  disturb 
'em,  and  was  pretty  nigh  worn  out — I  had  been  up  throe 
nights  with  Betsy  Mulliu's  girl — I  sat  down  and  nigh 
dozed  off.  The  door  was  open  and  I  could  hear  what 
they  said  downstairs  when  they  spoke  loud.  At  first 
they  talked  low,  and  I  didn't  heed  what  they  were  say- 
ing; then  I  heard  a  word  or  two  which  frighted  me,  and 
then  I  got  up  and  went  quiet  to  my  door  and  listened. 
Jack,  they  are  going  to  wreck  the  engines,  so  as  to  stop 
the  pumping  and  drown  the  mines.  They  are  going  to 
do  for  the  'Vaughan,'  and  the  'Hill  Side,'  and  'Thorns,* 
and  the 'Little  Shaft,' and  'Vale.'  It's  to  be  done  to- 
night, and  they  begin  with  the  'Vaughan'  at  ten  o'clock, 
'cause  it's  closest,  I  suppose." 

"They  are  mad,"  Jack  said  sternly.  "How  are  they 
to  earn  their  bread  if  they  flood  the  mines?  And  it  will 
end  by  a  lot  of  them  being  sent  to  jail  for  years.  But 
I'll  stop  it  if  it  costs  me  my  life." 

"Oh,  Jack!  don't  'ee  do  anything  rash,"  Mrs.  Haden 
said  piteously.  "What  can  one  lad  do  against  two  or 
three  hundred  men?" 

"Now,  mother,"  Jack  said  promptly,  not  heeding  her 
appeal,  "what  police  are  there  within  reach?" 

"The  police  were  ail  sent  away  yesterday  to  Bamptoa. 
There  were  riots  there,  I  heard  say.  That's  why  they 
chose  to-night." 

"Now  the  first  thing,  mother,  is  to  prevent  dad  from 
going  out  to-night.  He  must  be  kept  out  of  it,  whatever 
others  do.  I've  brought  a  bottle  of  gin  from  Birmingham. 
Tell  him  I've  come  over  for  an  hour  or  two  to  see  school- 


'iQ  FACING  DEATH. 

master,  and  I'm  going  back  again  afterward,  but  I've 
brought  him  this  as  a  present.  Get  the  cork  out ;  he's 
sure  to  drink  a  glass  or  two  anyway,  perhaps  more,  but 
it  will  send  him  off  to  sleep  sure  enough.  It's  the 
strongest  I  could  get,  and  he's  out  of  the  way  of  drink 
now.  I  don't  suppose  they'll  miss  him  when  they  start; 
but  if  any  one  comes  round  for  him,  you  tell  'em  I  brought 
him  some  Old  Tom  over,  and  that  he's  so  dead  sleepy  he 
can't  move.  Later  on,  if  you  can,  get  some  woman  or 
child  to  come  in,  and  let  them  see  him,  so  that  there'll 
be  a  witness  he  was  at  home  when  the  thing  came  off; 
that'll  make  him  safe.     I've  thought  it  all  over." 

"But  what  be'est  thou  going  to  do.  Jack?" 

"Don't  mind  me,  mother.  I'm  going  to  save  the 
9'aughan  colliery.  Don't  you  fret  about  me;  all  you've 
got  to  do  is  to  make  dad  drink,  which  ain't  a  difficult  job, 
and  to  stick  to  the  story  that  I  have  been  over  for  an  hour 
to  see  schoolmaster.  Good-by,  mother.  Don't  fret;  it 
will  all  come  out  right," 

As  Jack  went  down  the  street  he  tapped  at  the  door  of 
his  friend's  house. 

"Is  Harry  in?" 

Harry  was  in,  and  came  out  at  once. 

"How's  Annie?"  was  Jack's  first  question. 

"Better,  much  better.  Jack;  the  doctor  thinks  she'll 
do  now.  The  broth  put  fresh  life  into  her;  we're  all 
better.  Jack,  thanks  to  you." 

"That's  all  right,  Harry.  Put  on  your  cap  and  walk 
with  me  to  the  schoolroom.  Now,"  he  went  on,  as  his 
friend  rejoined  him,  and  they  turned  up  the  street, 
"will  you  do  a  job  for  me?" 

"Anything  in  the  world.  Jack — leastways  anything  I 
can." 

"You  may  risk  your  life,  Harry." 


FACING  DEAT3.  1'? 

*'A11  right,  Jack,  I'll  risk  it  willins  for  you.  ¥ou 
risked  yours  for  me  at  the  old  shaft." 

"Dost  know  what's  going  tobedone  to-night,  Harry?" 

"I've  heard  summat  about  it." 

"It  must  be  stopped,  Karrj%  if  it  costs  you  and  me  our 
lives.  What's  that  when  the  whole  district  depends 
upon  it?  If  they  wreck  the  engines  and  flood  the  mines 
there  will  be  no  work  for  months;  and  what's  to  become 
of  the  women  and  children  then?  I'm  going  to  Mr. 
Merton  to  tell  him,  and  to  get  him  to  write  a  letter  to 
Sir  John  Butler — Brook's  place  would  be  watched — he's 
the  nearest  magistrate,  and  the  most  active  about  here, 
and  won't  let  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet  by  all 
accounts.  The  letter  must  tell  him  of  the  attack  that  is 
to  be  made  to-night,  and  ask  him  to  send  for  the  soldiers, 
if  no  police  can  be  had.  I  want  you  to  take  the  letter, 
Harry.  Go  out  the  other  side  of  the  village  and  make  a 
long  sweep  round.  Don't  get  into  the  road  till  you  get 
a  full  mile  out  of  the  place.  Then  go  as  hard  as  you  can 
till  you  get  to  Butler's.  Insist  on  seeing  him  yourself; 
eay  it's  a  question  of  life  and  death.  If  he's  out,  you 
must  go  on  to  Hooper — he's  the  next  magistrate.  When 
you  have  delivered  the  letter,  slip  off  home  and  go  to 
bed,  and  never  let  out  all  your  life  that  you  took  that 
letter." 

"All  right.  Jack;  but  what  be'est  thou  going  to  do?" 

"I'm  going  another  way,  lad;  I've  got  my  work  too. 
You'd  best  stop  here,  Harry ;  I  will  bring  the  letter  to 
you.  It  may  get  out  some  day  that  Merton  wrote  it,  and 
it's  as  well  you  shouldn't  be  seen  near  his  place." 


ITS  FACING  DEATH, 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE  ATTACK  ON  THE    ENGINE-HOUSE. 

No  Booner  did   Mr.    Merton  hear  of  the  resolution  of 
the  miners  to  destroy  the  engines  than  he  sat  down  and 
■wrote  an  urgent  letter  to  Sir  John  Butler. 
"Is  there  anything  else,  Jack?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir.  If  the  masters  could  be  warned 
of  the  attack  they  might  get  a  few  viewers  and  firemen 
and  make  a  sort  of  defense;  but  if  the  men's  blood's  up 
it  might  go  hard  with  them ;  and  it  would  go  hard  with 
you  if  you  were  known  to  have  taken  the  news  of  it." 

"I  will  take  the  risk  of  that,"  Mr.  Merton  said. 
"Directly  it  is  dark  I  will  set  out.  What  are  you  going 
to  do,  Jack?" 

"I've  got  my  work  marked  out,"  Jack  said.  "I'd 
rather  not  tell  you  till  it's  all  over.  Good-by,  sir;  Harry 
is  waiting  for  the  letter." 

Mr.  Merton  did  not  carry  out  his  plans.  As  soon  as  it 
was  dark  he  left  the  village,  but  a  hundred  yards  out  he 
came  upon  a  party  of  men,  evidently  posted  as  sentries. 
These  roughly  told  him  that  if  he  didn't  want  to  be 
chucked  into  the  canal  he'd  best  go  home  to  bed;  and 
this,  after  trying  another  road  with  the  same  results,  he 
did. 

Jack  walked  with  Harry  as  far  as  the  railway  station, 
mentioning  to  several  friends  he  met  that  he  was  off 
again.  The  lads  crossed  #ie  line,  went  out  of  the  oppo- 
site booking-office,  and  set  off — for  it  was  now  past  five. 


.  VACINO  BE  A  Tff.  79 

and  already  dark — at  the  top  of  their  speed  in  different 
directions.  Jack  did  not  stop  till  he  reached  the  engine- 
house  of  the  Vaughan  mine.  The  pumps  were  still 
clanking  inside,  and  the  water  streaming  down  ths  shoot. 
Peeping  carefully  in,  to  see  that  his  friend,  John  Eat- 
cliffe,  was  alone.  Jack  entered. 

"Well,  John,"  he  said,  "the  engine's  still  going." 

"Ay,  Jack;  but  if  what's  more  nor  one  has  told  me  to- 
day be  true,  it  be  for  the  last  time." 

"Look  here,  John;  Mr.  Brook  has  been  a  good  master, 
will  you  do  him  a  good  turn?" 

"Ay,  lad,  if  I  can;  I've  held  on  here,  though  they've 
threatened  to  chuck  me  dov/n  the  shaft;  but  I'm  a  mar- 
ried man,  and  can't  throw  away  my  life." 

"I  don't  ask  you  to,  John.  I  want  you  to  work  hard 
here  with  me  till  six  o'clock  strikes,  and  then  go  home  as 
usual." 

"What  dost  want  done,  lad?" 

"What  steam  is  there  in  the  boiler?" 

"Only  about  fifteen  pounds.  I'm  just  knocking  off, 
and  have  banked  the  fire  up." 

"All  right,  John.  I  want  you  to  help  me  fix  the  fire 
hose,  the  short  length,  to  that  blow-off  cock  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  boiler.  We  can  unscrew  the  pipe  down  to 
the  drain,  and  can  fasten  the  hose  to  it  with  a  union,  I 
expect.     You've  got  some  unions,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  lad;  and  what  then?" 

"That's  my  business,  Joho.  I'm  going  to  hold  thia 
place  till  the  soldiers  come ;  and  I  think  that  with  twenty 
pounds  of  steam  in  the  boiler,  and  the  hose,  I  can  keep 
all  the  miners  of  Stokebridge  out.  At  any  rate,  I'll  try. 
Now,  John,  set  to  work.  I  want  thee  to  go  straight 
home,  and  then  no  one  will  suspect  thee  of  having  a  hand 
in  the  matter.     I'll  go  out  when  thou  dost,  and  thoa 


80  FACING  DEATH. 

canst  swear,  if  thou  art  asked,  that  there  was  not  a  soiil 
in  the  house  when  thou  earnest  away." 

"Thou  wilt  lose  thy  life.  Jack." 

"That  be  my  business,"  Jack  said.  "I  think  not^ 
Now  set  to  work,  John;  give  me  a  spanner  and  let's  get 
the  pipe  off  the  cock  at  once." 

John  Eatcliffe  set  to  work  with  a  will,  and  in  twenty 
minutes  the  unions  were  screwed  on  and  the  hose  at- 
tached, a  length  of  thirty  feet,  which  was  quite  sufficient 
to  reach  to  the  window,  some  eight  feet  above  the  ground. 
Along  by  this  window  ran  a  platform.  There  was  an- 
other, and  a  smaller  window,  on  the  other  side. 

While  they  were  working,  John  Eatcliffe  tried  to  dis- 
suade Jack  from  carrying  out  his  plan. 

"It's  no  use,  John.  I  mean  to  save  the  engines,  and 
so  the  pit.  They'll  never  get  in;  and  no  one  knows  I 
am  here,  and  no  one  will  suspect  me.  None  of  'em  will 
know  my  voice,  for  they  won't  bring  boys  with  them, 
and  dad  won't  be  here.  There,  it's  striking  six.  Let 
me  just  drop  a  rope  out  of  the  window  to  climb  in  agaia 
with.  Now  we'll  go  out  together;  do  thou  lock  the  door, 
take  the  key,  and  go  off  home.  Like  enough  they'll 
ask  thee  for  the  key,  or  they  may  bring  their  sledges  to 
break  it  in.  Anyhow  it  will  make  no  difference,  for 
there  are  a  couple  of  bolts  inside,  and  I  shall  make  it 
fast  with  bars.  There,  that's  right.  Good-night,  John. 
Eemember,  whatever  comes  of  it,  thou  knowest  naught 
of  it.  Thou  earnest  away  and  left  the  place  empty,  as 
usual,  and  no  one  there." 

"Good-by,  lad,  I'd  stop  with  'ee  and  share  thy  risk, 
but  they'd  know  I  was  here,  and  my  life  wouldn't  be 
worth  the  price  of  a  pot  o'  beer.  Don't  forget,  lad,  if 
thou  lowerest  the  water,  to  damp  down  the  fire,  and  opeu 
the  valves." 


TACINO  DEATH.  81 

Jack,  left  to  himself,  clambered  up  to  the  window  and 
entered  the  engine-house  again,  threw  some  fresh  coal 
en  the  fire,  heaped  a  quantity  of  coal  against  the  door, 
and  jammed  several  long  iron  bars  against  it.  Then  he 
lighted  his  pipe  and  sat  listening,  occasionally  getting 
up  to  hold  a  lantern  to  the  steam  gauge,  as  it  crept 
gradually  up. 

"Twenty-five  pounds, "  he  said;  "that  will  be  enough 
to  throw  the  water  fifty  or  sixty  yards  on  a  level,  and 
the  door  of  the  winding-engine's  not  more  than  thirty, 
so  I  can  hold  them  both  if  thej'  try  to  break  in  there." 

He  again  banked  up  the  fires,  and  sat  thinking, 
Harry  would  be  at  the  magistrate's  by  a  quarter  to  six. 
By  six  o'clock  Sir  John  could  be  on  his  way  to  Birming- 
ham for  troops ;  fifteen  miles  to  drive — say  an  hour  and 
a  half.  Another  hour  for  the  soldiers  to  start,  and  three 
hours  to  do  the  nineteen  miles  to  the  Vaughan,  half-past 
eleven — perhaps  half  an  hour  earlier,  perhaps  half  an 
hour  later.  There  was  no  fear  but  there  was  plenty  of 
water.  The  boiler  was  a  large  one,  and  was  built  partly 
into,  partly  out  of  the  engine-house.  That  is  to  say, 
while  the  furnace-door,  the  gauges,  and  the  safety  valve 
were  inside,  the  main  portion  of  the  boiler  was  outside 
the  walls.  The  blow-off  cock  was  two  inches  in  diame- 
ter, and  the  nozzle  of  the  hose  an  inch  and  a  half.  It 
would  take  some  minutes  then,  even  with  the  steam  at  a 
pressure  of  twenty-five  pounds  to  the  inch,  to  blow  the 
water  out,  and  a  minute  would,  he  was  certain,  do  all  that 
was  needed. 

Not  even  when,  upon  the  first  day  of  his  life  in  the 
pit,  Jack  sat  hour  after  hour  alone  in  the  darkness,  did 
the  time  seem  to  go  so  slowly  as  it  did  that  evening. 
Once  or  twice  he  thought  he  heard  footsteps,  and  crept 
cautiously  up  to  the  window  to  listen ;  but  each  time, 


82  FACING  DEATH. 

convinced  of  his  error,  he  returned  to  hia  place  on  a 
bench  near  the  furnace.  He  heard  the  hours  strike,  one 
after  another,  on  the  Stokebridge  church  clock — eight, 
nine,  ten — and  then  he  took  his  post  by  the  window  and 
listened.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  passed,  and  then  there 
was  a  faint,  confused  sound.  Nearer  it  came,  and 
nearer,  until  it  swelled  into  the  trampling  of  a  crowd  of 
many  hundreds  of  men.  They  came  along  with  laughter 
and  rough  jests,  for  they  had  no  thought  of  opposition — 
no  thought  that  any  one  was  near  them.  The  crowd 
moved  forward  until  they  were  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
engine-house,  and  then  one,  who  seemed  to  be  in  com- 
mand, said,  "Smash  the  door  in  with  your  sledges,  lads." 

Jack  had,  as  they  approached,  gone  down  to  the  boiler, 
and  had  turned  the  blow-off  cock,  and  the  boiling  water 
swelled  the  strong  leathern  hose  almost  to  bursting. 
Then  he  went  back  to  the  window,  threw  it  open,  and 
stood  with  the  nozzle  in  his  hand. 

"Hold!"  he  shouted  out  in  loud,  clear  tones.  "Let  no 
man  move  a  step  nearer  for  his  life. " 

The  mob  stood  silent,  paralyzed  with  surprise.  Jack 
had  spoken  without  a  tinge  of  the  local  accent,  and  as 
none  of  the  boys  were  there,  his  voice  was  quite  unrecog- 
nized. "Who  be  he?"  "It's  a  stranger!"  and  other 
sentences  were  muttered  through  the  throng. 

"Who  be  you?"  the  leader  asked,  recovering  from  his 
surprise. 

"Never  mind  who  I  am,"  Jack  said,  standing  well 
back  from  the  window,  lest  the  light  from  the  lanterns 
which  some  of  the  men  carried  might  fall  on  his  face. 
"I  am  here  in  the  name  of  the  law.  I  warn  you  to  desist 
from  your  evil  design.  Go  to  your  homes;  the  soldiers 
are  on  their  way,  and  may  be  here  any  minute.  More- 
over, I  have  means  here  of  destroying  any  man  who 
attempts  to  enter." 


FACING  DEATH.  83 

There  was  a  movement  in  the  crowd.  "The  soldiers 
be  coming,"  ran  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  the  more 
timid  began  to  move  toward  the  outside  of  the  crowd. 

"Stand  firm,  lads,  it  be  a  lie,"  shouted  the  leader. 
"Thee  bain't  to  be  frighted  by  one  man,  be'est  'ee? 
"What!  five  hundred  Staffordshire  miners  afeard  o'  one? 
Why,  ye'll  be  the  laughing-stock  of  the  country!  Now, 
lads,  break  in  the  door;  we'll  soon  see  who  be  yon  chap 
that  talks  so  big," 

There  was  a  rush  to  the  door,  and  a  thundering  clatter 
as  the  heavy  blows  of  the  sledgehammers  fell  on  the 
wood;  while  another  party  began  an  assault  upon  the 
door  of  the  winding-engine  house. 

Then  Jack,  with  closely  pressed  lips  and  set  face, 
turned  the  cock  of  the  nozzle. 

With  a  hiss  the  scalding  water  leaped  out  in  a  stream. 
Jack  stood  well  forward  now  and  with  the  hose  swept  the 
crowd,  as  a  fireman  might  sweep  a  burning  building. 
Driven  by  the  tremendous  force  of  the  internal  steam, 
the  boiling  water  knocked  the  men  in  front  headlong 
over;  then,  as  he  raised  the  nozzle  and  scattered  the 
water  broadcast  over  the  crowd,  wild  yells,  screams,  and 
curses  broke  on  the  night  air.  Another  move,  and  the 
column  of  boiling  fluid  fell  on  those  engaged  on  the 
other  engine-house  door,  and  smote  them  down. 

Then  Jack  turned  the  cock  again,  and  the  stream  of 
water  ceased. 

It  was  but  a  minute  since  he  had  turned  it  on,  but  it 
had  done  its  terrible  work.  A  score  of  men  lay  on  the 
ground,  rolling  in  agony;  others  danced,  screamed,  and 
yelled  in  pain ;  others,  less  severely  scalded,  filled  the 
air  with  curses ;  while  all  able  to  move  made  a  wild  rush 
back  from  the  terrible  building. 

When  the  wild  cries  had  a  little  subsided.  Jack  called 
out: 


84  FACING  DEATH. 

"Now,  lads,  you  can  come  back  safely.  I  have  plenty 
more  hot  water,  and  I  could  have  scalded  the  whole  of 
you  as  badly  as  those  in  front  had  I  wanted  to.  Now  I 
promise,  on  my  oath,  not  to  turn  it  on  again  if  you  will 
eome  and  carry  off  your  mates  who  are  here.  Take  them 
off  home  as  quick  as  you  can,  before  the  soldiers  come. 
I  don't  want  to  do  you  harm.  You'd  all  best  be  in  bed 
as  soon  as  you  can." 

The  men  hesitated,  but  it  was  clear  to  them  all  that  it 
"had  been  in  the  power  of  their  unknown  foe  to  have  in- 
flicted a  far  heavier  punishment  upon  them  than  he  had 
done,  and  there  was  a  ring  of  truth  and  honesty  in  his 
voice  which  they  could  not  doubt.  So  after  a  little  hesi- 
tation a  number  of  them  came  forward,  and  lifting  tha 
men  who  had  fallen  near  the  engine-house,  carried  them 
off;  and  in  a  few  minutes  there  was  a  deep  silence  where, 
just  before,  a  very  pandemonium  had  seemed  let  loose. 

Then  Jack,  the  strain  over,  sat  down  and  cried  like  a 
child. 

Half  an  hour  later,  listening  intentlj-,  he  heard  a  deep 
sound  in  the  distance.  "Here  come  the  soldiers,"  he 
muttered,  "it  is  time  for  me  to  be  off." 

He  glanced  at  the  steam-gauge,  and  saw  that  the  steam 
■was  falling,  while  the  water-gauge  showed  that  there 
vras  still  sufficient  water  for  safety,  and  he  then  opened 
the  window  at  the  back  of  the  building,  and  dropped 
to  the  ground.  In  an  instant  he  was  seized  in  a  power- 
ful grasp. 

"I  thought  ye'd  be  coming  out  here,  and  now  I've  got 
ye,"  growled  a  deep  voice,  which  Jack  recognized  as 
that  of  Eoger  Hawking,  the  terror  of  Stokebridge. 

For  an  instant  his  heart  seemed  to  stand  still  at  tha 
extent  of  his  peril;  then,  with  a  sudden  wrench,  he 
swung  round  and  faced  his  captor,  twisted  his  hands  in 


racing  D. 


A  Life  or  Death  Struggle.— Page  85. 


FACING  DEATH.  85 

bis  handkerchief,  aiul  drove  his  knuckles  into  his  throat. 
Then  came  a  crashing  blow  in  his  face — another  and  an- 
other. "With  head  bent  down.  Jack  held  on  his  grip 
with  the  gameness  and  tenacity  of  a  bulldog,  while  the 
blows  rained  on  his  head,  and  his  assailant,  in  his 
desperate  effort  to  free  himself,  swung  his  body  hither 
and  thither  in  the  air,  as  a  bull  might  sv.ing  a  dog 
which  had  pinned  him.  Jack  felt  his  senses  going — a 
dull,  dazed  feeling  came  over  him.  Then  he  felt  a  crash, 
as  his  adversary  reeled  and  fell — and  then  all  was  dark. 

It  could  have  been  but  a  few  minutes  that  he  lay  thus, 
for  he  awoke  with  the  sound  of  a  thunder  of  horses' 
hoofs,  and  a  clatter  of  swords  in  the  yard  on  the  other 
Bide  of  the  engine-house.  Eousing  himself,  he  found 
that  he  still  grasped  the  throat  of  the  man  beneath  him. 
With  a  vague  sense  of  wonder  whether  his  foe  was  dead, 
he  rose  to  his  feet  and  staggered  off,  the  desire  to  avoid 
the  troops  dispersing  all  other  ideas  in  his  brain.  For  a 
few  hundred  yards  he  staggered  along,  swaying  like  a 
drunken  man,  and  knowing  nothing  of  where  he  was 
going ;  then  he  stumbled,  and  fell  again,  and  lay  for 
hours  insensible. 

It  was  just  the  faint  break  of  day  when  he  came  to,  the 
cold  air  of  the  morning  having  brought  him  to  himself. 
It  took  him  a  few  minutes  to  recall  what  had  happened 
and  his  whereabouts.  Then  he  made  his  way  to  the 
canal,  which  was  close  by,  washed  the  blood  from  his 
face,  and  set  out  to  walk  to  Birmingham.  He  was  too 
shaken  and  bruised  to  make  much  progress,  and  after 
walking  for  awhile  crept  into  the  shelter  of  a  haj-stack, 
and  went  off  to  sleep  for  many  hours.  After  it  was  dusk 
in  the  evening  he  started  again,  and  made  his  way  to  his 
lodgings  at  ten  o'clock  that  night.  It  was  a  fortnight 
before  he  could  leave  his  room,  so  bruised  and  cut  was 


86  FAGING  BEATS. 

liis  face,  and  a  month,  before  the  last  sign  of  the  strug- 
gle was  obliterated,  and  he  felt  that  he  could  return  to 
Stokebridge  without  his  appearance  being  noticed. 

There,  great  changes  had  taken  place.  The  militaiT 
had  found  the  splintered  door,  the  hose,  and  the  still 
steaming  water  in  the  yard,  and  the  particulars  of  the 
occurrence  which  had  taken  place  had  been  pretty- 
accurately  judged.  They  were  indeed  soon  made  public 
by  the  stories  of  the  scalded  men,  a  great  number  of 
whom  were  forced  to  place  themselves  in  the  hands  of 
the  doctor,  many  of  them  having  had  very  narrow  escapes 
of  their  lives,  but  none  of  them  had  actually  succumbed. 
In  searching  round  the  engine-house  the  soldiers  had 
found  a  man,  apparently  dead,  his  tongue  projecting 
from  his  mouth.  A  surgeon  had  accompanied  them,  and 
a  vein  having  been  opened  and  water  dashed  in  his  face, 
he  gave  signs  of  recovery.  He  had  been  taken  off  to 
jail  as  being  concerned  in  the  attack  on  the  engine-house; 
but  no  evidence  could  be  obtained  against  him,  and  he 
would  have  been  released  had  he  not  been  recognized  as 
a  man  who  had,  five  years  before,  effected  a  daring 
escape  from  Portland,  where  he  was  undergoing  a  life 
sentence  for  a  brutal  manslaughter. 

The  defeat  of  the  attempt  to  destroy  the  Vaughan 
engines  was  the  death-blow  of  the  strike.  Among  the 
foremost  in  the  attack,  and  therefore  so  terribly  scalded 
that  they  were  disabled  for  weeks,  were  most  of  the  lead- 
ers of  the  strike  in  the  pits  of  the  district,  and  their 
voices  silenced  and  their  counsel  discredited,  the  men 
two  days  after  the  attack  had  a  great  meeting,  at  which 
it  was  resolved  almost  unanimously  to  go  to  work  on  the 
masters*  terms. 

Great  excitement  was  caused  throughout  the  district 
by  the  publication  of  the  details  of  the  defense  of  the 


FACING  BEATS.  87 

engine-Louse,  and  the  most  strenuous  efforts  were  mado 
by  Mr.  lirook  to  discover  tlio  person  to  whom  ho  was  so 
indebted.  The  miners  were  unanimous  in  describing 
him  as  a  stranger,  and  as  speaking  like  a  gentleman ;  and 
there  was  great  wonder  whj-  any  one  who  had  done  so 
great  a  service  to  the  mine-owners  should  conceal  his 
identity.  Jack's  secret  was,  however,  well  kept  by  the 
three  or  four  who  alone  knew  it,  and  who  knew  that  his 
life  would  not  be  safe  for  a  day  did  the  colliers,  groan- 
ing and  smarting  over  their  terrible  injuries,  discover  to 
whom  they  were  indebted  for  them. 


S3  FACING  DEATB. 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

AFTEB     THE     STRIKE. 

*'Well,  Jack,  SO  you're  back  again, "  Nelly  Hardy  said 
as  she  met  Jack  Simpson  on  his  way  home  from  work  on 
the  first  day  after  his  return. 

"Ay,  Nelly,  and  glad  to  see  you.  How  have  things 
gone  on?"  and  he  nodded  toward  her  home. 

"Better  than  I  ever  knew  them,"  the  girl  said. 
"When  father  could  not  afiford  to  buy  drink  we  had  bet- 
ter times  than  I  have  ever  known.  It  was  a  thousand 
times  better  to  starve  than  as  'twas  before.  He's  laid  up 
still;  you  nigh  scalded  him  to  death,  Jack,  and  I  doubt 
he'll  never  be  fit  for  work  again." 

"I,"  Jack  exclaimed,  astounded,  for  he  believed  that 
the  secret  was  known  only  to  his  mother,  Harry,  John 
Eatcliffe,  Mr.  Merton,  and  perhaps  the  schoolmaster's 
daughter. 

"Has  Harry " 

"No,  Harry  has  not  said  a  word.     Oh,  Jack,  I  didn't 
think  it  of  3'ou.     You  call  me  a  friend  and  keep  this  a 
secret;  you  let  Harry  know  it  and   say  uowt  to  me. 
did  not  think  it  of  you,"  and  the  dark  eyes  filled  with 
tears. 

"But  if  Harry  did  not  tell  you,  how — — " 

"As  if  I  wanted  telling,"  she  said  indignantly.  "Who 
would  have  dared  do  it  but  you?  Didn't  I  know  you 
were  here  an  hour  or  two  before,  and  you  think  I  needed 
telling  who  it  was  as  faced  all  the  pitmen?  And  to  think 
you  hid   it   from   me!     Didn't  you   think   I   could   ba 


FACING  DEATH.  m 

trusted?  Couldn't  I  have  gone  to  fetch  the  redcoats  for 
you?  Couldn't  I  have  sat  by  j'ou  in  the  engine-house, 
and  waited  and  held  j'our  hand  when  you  stood  against 
them  all?  Oh,  Jack!"  And  for  the  first  time  since  their 
friendship  had  been  pledged,  nearly  four  years  before. 
Jack  saw  Nelly  burst  into  tears. 

"I  didn't  mean  unkind,  Nell,  I  didn't,  indeed,  and  if 
I  had  wanted  another  messenger  I  would  have  come  to  you. 
Don't  I  know  you  are  as  true  as  steel?  Come,  lass,  don't 
take  on.  I  would  have  sent  thee  instead  o'  Harry  only  I 
thought  he  could  run  fastest.  Girls'  wind  ain't  as  good 
as  lads'." 

"And  you  didn't  doubt  I'd  do  it,  Jack?" 

"Not  for  a  moment,"  Jack  said.  "I  would  have 
trusted  thee  as  much  as  Harry." 

"Well,  then,  I  forgive  you.  Jack,  but  if  ever  you  get 
in  danger  again,  and  doan't  let  me  know,  I'll  never  speak 
a  word  to  you  again. " 

In  the  years  which  had  passed  since  this  friendship 
began,  Nelly  Hardy  had  greatly  changed.  The  compan- 
ionship of  two  quiet  lads  like  Jack  and  Harry  had  tamed 
her  down,  and  her  love  of  reading  and  her  study  of  all 
the  books  on  history  and  travel  on  Jack's  bookshelves 
had  softened  her  speech.  When  alone  the  three  spoke 
with  but  little  of  the  dialect  of  the  place,  Jack  having 
insisted  on  improvement  in  this  respect.  With  Nelly 
his  task  had  been  easy,  for  she  was  an  apt  pupil,  but 
Harry  still  retained  some  of  his  roughness  of  speech. 

Nelly  was  fifteen  now,  and  was  nearly  as  tall  as  Jack, 
who  was  square  and  somewhat  stout  for  his  age.  With 
these  two  friends  Jack  would  talk  sometimes  of  his  hopes 
of  rising  and  making  a  way  for  himself.  Harry,  who 
believed  devoutly  in  his  friend,  entered  most  warmly  into 
his  hopes,  but  Nelly  on  this  subject  alone  was  not  sym- 
pathetic. 


90  FACING  DEATH. 

"You  don't  say  anything,"  Jack  remarked  one  day; 
"do  you  think  my  castles  in  the  air  will  never  coma 
true?" 

"I  know  they  -will  come  true,  Jack,"  she  said  earnestly; 
"but  don't  ask  me  to  he  glad.  I  can't;  I  try  to,  but 
I  can't.  It's  selfish,  but,  but — "  and  her  voice  quivered. 
"Every  step  thou  takest  will  carry  you  further  up  from 
me,  and  I  can't  be  glad  on  it.  Jack!" 

"Nonsense,  Nelly,"  Jack  said  angrily,  "dost  think  so 
little  of  me  as  to  think  that  I  shall  not  be  as  true  to  my 
two  friends,  Harry  and  you,  as  I  am  now?" 

The  girl  shook  her  head. 

"You  will  try.  Jack,  you  will  try.  Don't  think  I 
doubt  you,  but — "  and  turning  round  she  fled  away  at 
full  speed. 

"I  believe  she  ran  away  because  she  was  going  to 
cry,"  Harry  said.  "Lasses  are  strange  things,  and 
though  in  some  things  Nell's  half  a  lad,  yet  she's  soft 
you  see  on  some  points.     Curious,  isn't  it.  Jack?" 

"Verj-  curious,"  Jack  said;  "I  thought  I  understood 
Nell  as  well  as  I  did  you  or  myself,  but  I  begin  to  think 
J  doan't  understand  her  as  much  as  I  thought.  It  comes 
of  her  being  a  lass,  of  course,  but  it's  queer  too,"  and 
Jack  shook  his  head  over  the  mysterious  nature  of  lasses. 
"Tou  can't  understand  'em,"  he  went  on  again  thought- 
fully. "Now,  if  you  wanted  some  clothes,  Harry,  and 
you  were  out  of  work,  I  should  just  buy  you  a  set  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  you'd  take  'em  the  same.  It 
■would  be  only  natural  like  friends,  wouldn't  it?" 

Harry  assented. 

"Now,  I've  been  wanting  to  give  Nelly  a  gown,  and  j^ 
jacket,  and  hat  for  the  last  two  years.  I  want  her  to 
look  nice,  and  hold  her  own  with  the  other  lasses  of  tha 
place — she's  as  good-looking  as  any — but  I  daren't  do  it. 


FACING  DEATH.  91 

No,  I  daren't,  downright.  I  know,  as  well  as  if  I  see  :., 
how  she'd  flash  up,  and  how  angry  she'd  be." 

"Why  should  she?"  Harry  asked. 

"That's  what  I  doan't  know,  lad,  butlknowshe  woukl 
be.  I  suppose  it  comes  of  her  being  a  lass,  but  it  henU 
me  altogether.  Why  shouldn't  she  take  it?  other  lasses 
take  presents  from  their  lads,  why  shouldn't  Nell  tako 
one  from  her  friend?  But  she  wouldn't,  I'd  bet  my  liio 
she  wouldn't,  and  she  wouldn't  say,  'No,  and  thank 
you,'  but  she'd  treat  it  as  if  I'd  insulted  her.  No,  it 
can't  be  done,  lad;  but  it's  a  pity,  for  I  should  ha'  liked 
to  see  her  look  nice  for  once." 

Not  satisfied  with  his  inability  to  solve  the  question 
Jack  took  his  mother  into  his  confidence. 

Jane  Haden  smiled. 

"Noa,  Jack,  I  don't  think  as  how  thou  cansu  give  Nell 
Hardy  a  dress.  She  is  a  good,  quiet  girl  and  keeps  her- 
self respectable,  which,  taking  into  account  them  she 
comes  from,  is  a  credit  to  her,  but  I  doan't  think  thou 
could'st  gi'  her  a  gown." 

"But  why  not,  mother?"  Jack  persisted.  "I  might 
gi'  her  a  pair  o'  earrings  or  a  brooch,  I  suppose,  which 
would  cost  as  much  as  the  gown." 

"Yes,  thou  might'st  do  that.  Jack." 

"Then  if  she  could  take  the  thing  which  would  be  no 
manner  o'  use  to  her,  why  couldn't  she  take  the  thing 
that  would?" 

"I  doan't  know  as  I  can  rightly  tell  you,  Jack,  but 
there's  a  difference." 

"But  can't  you  tell  me  what  is  the  difference?"  Jack 
insisted. 

"Noa,  Jack,  I  can't,  but  there  be  a  difference." 

Jack  seized  his  candle  with  a  cry  of  despair,  and  ran 
upstairs.     He  had  solved  many  a   tough   problem,  bui 


93  FACING  DEATH. 

tLis  was  beyond  him  altogether.  He  was  not,  however, 
accustomed  to  be  baffled,  and  the  next  day  he  renewed 
the  subject,  this  time  to  Nelly  herself. 

"Look  here,  Nell,"  he  said,  "I  want  to  ask  you  a 
question.  It  is  a  supposition,  you  know,  only  a  suppo- 
sition, but  it  bothers  me." 

"What  is  it.  Jack?"  she  said,  looking  up  from  the 
ground,  upon  which  as  was  her  custom  she  was  sitting 
with  a  book  while  Jack  sat  on  a  gate. 

"If  I  was  to  offer  you  a  pair  of  gold  earrings." 

"I  wouldn't  take  'em,"  the  girl  said,  rising,  "you 
know  I  wouldn't  Jack;  you  know  I  never  take  presents 
from  you." 

"I  know,  lass,  I  know.  We'll  suppose  you  wouldn't 
take  it,  but  you  wouldn't  be  angered,  would  you?" 

"I  should  be  angered  that  you  spent  money  foolishly," 
the  girl  said  after  a  pause,  "when  you  knew  I  shouldn't 
take  it,  but  I  couldn't  be  angered  any  other  way." 

"Well,  but  if  I  were  to  buy  you  a  hat  and  a  jacket  and 
a  gown." 

"You  dare  not, "  the  girl  said  passionately,  her  face 
flushed  scarlet;   "you  dare  not.  Jack," 

"No,"  Jack  said  consciously,  "I  know  I  dare  not, 
though  I  should  like  to;  but  why  don't  I  dare?" 

"Because  it  would  be  an  insult,  a  gross  insult,  Jack, 
and  you  dare  not  insult  me." 

"No,  lass,  I  darena;  but  why  should  it  be  an  insult? 
that's  what  I  canna  make  out;  why  wouldn't  it  beau 
insult  to  offer  you  a  gold  brooch  worth  three  or  four 
pounds,  and  yet  be  an  insult  to  offer  you  the  other 
things?     What's  the  difference?" 

Nelly  had  calmed  down  now  when  she  saw  that  the 
question  was  a  hypothetical  one,  and  that  Jack  had  not, 
as  she  at  first  supposed,  bought  clothes  for  her. 


FACING  DEATH.  93 

She  thought  for  some  time.  "I  suppose,  Jack,  the 
difference  is  this :  It's  the  duty  of  a  girl's  father  and 
mother  to  buy  fit  clothes  for  her,  aud  if  they  don't  it's 
either  their  fault,  or  it's  because  they  ai'o  too  poor.  So 
to  give  clothes  is  an  interference  and  a  sort  of  repi'oach. 
A  brooch  is  not  necessary ;  it's  a  pretty  ornament,  and 
so  a  lad  may  give  it  to  his  lass  vyi'out  shame." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  it  must  be  that,"  Jack  said  thought- 
fully.    "I'm  glad  I've  got  some  sort  of  answer," 


F^(JING  BEATS, 


CHAPTER    Xin. 


A  HEAVY  LOSS, 


"I  THOUGHT,  sir,  that  you  promised  to  say  nothiEg 
about  that  soup-kitchen  money,"  Jack  said  rather  indig- 
nantly one  evening  a  fortnight  after  he  had  gone  to  work 
again.  "Here  all  the  women  of  the  place  seem  know 
about  it,  and  as  I  was  coming  home  from  work  to-day, 
there  was  Mrs.  Thompson  run  out  and  shook  me  by  the 
hand  and  would  ha'  kissed  me  if  I'd  let  her,  and  said  I'd 
saved  her  children's  lives.  I  ha'  been  thinking  of  going 
away;  I  can't  stand  this;  and  I  thought  you  promised  to 
eay  nowt  about  it." 

" 'Nothing,' Jack,"  corrected  Mr.  Merton.  "It  is  a 
long  time  since  I  heard  you  say  'nowt.'  No,  Jack,  I  did 
not  promise ;  you  told  me  to  say  nothing  about  it,  but  I 
was  careful  not  to  promise.  Sit  down,  lad,  you're  a 
little  hot  now,  and  I  am  not  surprised,  but  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  credit  me  for  having  acted  for  the  best." 

Jack  sat  down  with  a  little  grunt,  and  with  the  expres- 
eion  of  dissatisfaction  on  his  face  in  no  way  mollified. 

"In  the  first  place,  Jack,  you  will,  I  know,  be  sorry  to 
hear  that  I  am  going  away. ' ' 

"Going  away!"  Jack  exclaimed,  leaping  to  his  feet, 
all  thought  of  his  grievance  gone  at  once.  "Oh!  Mr. 
J'ierton. ' ' 

"I  told  you,  you  will  remember.  Jack,  when  the  strike 
first  began,  that  for  the  sake  of  my  daughter  I  should 
make  an  effort  to  obtain  a  superior  position,  and  I  am 


FACING  DEATR.  95 

glad  to  say  that  I  have  done  so.  I  have  obtained  tu^ 
post  of  mathematical  master  at  the  Foundation  School  at 
Birmingham,  with  a  salary  of  three  hundred  a  year,  and 
this.  Jack,  I  partly  owe  to  you. ' ' 

"To  me!"  Jack  exclaimed  in  astonishment;  "how 
could  that  be,  sir?" 

"Well,  Jack,  you  got  me  to  -write  that  letter  to  Sir 
John  Butler,  that  was  the  means  of  bringing  the  troops 
over  from  Birmingham.  As  we  know,  they  arrived  too 
late,  for  in  point  of  fact  the  hot  water  from  the  Vaughau 
boiler  put  an  end  to  the  riot  and  the  strike  together. 
However,  Sir  John  Butler  mentioned  to  Mr.  Brook,  and 
the  other  owners  whose  mines  were  threatened,  that  it 
was  I  who  at  some  risk  to  myself  sent  the  message  which 
brought  down  the  troops.  I  can  assure  you  that  I  dis- 
claimed any  merit  in  the  affair;  however,  they  chose  to 
consider  themselves  under  an  obligation,  and  when  I 
applied  for  the  vacant  mastership,  sending  in,  of  course, 
my  college  testimonials,  they  were  good  enough  to  exert 
all  their  influence  with  the  governors  in  my  favor,  and  I 
was  elected  unanimously.  The  salary  is  an  increasing 
one,  and  I  am  to  be  allowed  to  coach  private  pupils  for 
the  university.     So,  Jack,  you  may  congratulate  me." 

"I  do,  sir,  most  heartily,  most  heartily, "  Jack  said  as 
he  grasped  the  hand  which  Mr.  Merton  held  out,  but  his 
voice  quivered  a  little  and  tears  stood  in  his  eyes.  "I 
am  glad,  indeed,  although  I  shall  miss  you  so  terribb', 
you  have  been  so  good  to  me,  and  Jack  fairly  broke  dowu 
now,  and  cried  silently.     . 

Mr.  Merton  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "Jack,  my 
work  is  nearly  done,  so  far  as  you  are  concerned.  You 
have  worked  nearly  as  far  as  can  be  of  any  use  to  you  ia 
pure  mathematics.  For  the  next  few  months  you  may 
go  on ;  but  then  you  had  better  turn  your  attention  to 


S6  FACING  DEATH. 

the  useful  application  of  what  you  have  learned.  You 
■want  to  fit  yourself  to  be  an  engineer,  especially,  of 
course,  a  mining  engineer;  still  the  more  general  your 
knowledge  the  better.  You  will  have,  therefore,  to  de- 
vote yourself  to  the  various  strains  and  stresses  in  iron 
bri«?,;^-'"  and  the  calculation  of  the  strength  of  the 
'.f'.yyji^  forms  of  these  structures.  Then  all  calculations 
f'A-  tO  the  expenditure  of  heat  and  force  in  steam  engines 
will  be  quite  material  for  you  to  master.  In  fact,  there 
is  work  before  you  for  another  four  or  five  years.  But 
for  much  of  this  you  will  not  require  a  master.  You 
will  find  the  practical  part  easy  to  you  when  you  have  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  mathematics.  At  the  same  time 
if  you  will  once  a  week  send  me  your  papers,  noting  all 
difficulties  that  you  may  meet  with,  I  will  go  through 
them  and  answer  you,  and  will  also  give  you  papers  to 
work  out." 

"You  are  very,  very  kind,  sir,"  Jack  said;  "but  it  will 
not  be  the  same  thing  as  you  being  here." 

"No,  not  quite  the  same,  Jack;  still  we  can  hardly 
help  that." 

"Oh,  no,  sir!"  Jack  said  eagerly,  "and  please  do  not 
think  that  I  am  not  glad  to  hear  that  you  have  got  a 
place  more  worthy  of  you.  It  was  a  blow  to  me,  just  at 
first,  and  I  was  selfish  to  think  of  myself  even  for  a 
moment." 

"Well,  Jack,  and  now  about  this  question  of  the  soup 
diimer?" 

"Oh!  it  does  not  matter,  sir.  I  had  forgot  all  about 
it." 

"It  matters  a  little.  Jack,  because,  although  I  did  not 
promise  to  keep  silence,  I  should  certainly  have  respected 
your  wish,  had  it  not  been  that  it  seemed  to  be  a  far 
more  important  matter  that  the  truth  should  be  known.'* 


FACING  DEATH.  97 

"More  important,  sir?"  Jack  repeated  in  a  puzzled 
tone. 

"More  important,  Jack.  My  successor  has  been 
chosen.  He  is  just  the  man  for  this  place — earnest,  well 
trained,  a  good  disciplinarian.  He  -will  be  no  help  to 
you.  Jack.  He  is  simply  taught  and  trained  as  the  moo- 
ter of  a  national  school,  but  he  is  thoroughly  in  earjost. 
I  have  told  him  that  his  most  efficient  assistant  he/f.  wil) 
be  yourself. " 

"I?"  Jack  exclaimed  in  extreme  astonishment. 

"You,  Jack,  not  as  a  teacher,  but  as  an  example.  You 
have  immense  power  of  doing  good,  Jack,  if  you  do  but 
choose  to  exert  it." 

Jack  was  altogether  too  surprised  to  speak  for  sjme 
time. 

"A  power  of  good, "  he  said  at  last.  "The  only  good 
I  can  do,  sir,  and  that  is  not  much,  is  to  thrash  chaps  I 
Bee  bullying  smaller  boys,  but  that's  nothing." 

"Well,  that's  something,  Jack;  and  indeed  I  fear  you 
ai"e  fond  of  fighting." 

"I  am  not  fond  of  it,"  Jack  said.  "I  don't  care  about 
it  one  way  or  the  other.  It  doesn't  hurt  me;  lamas 
hard  as  nails,  you  see,  so  I  don't  think  more  about  fight- 
ing than  I  do  about  eating  my  dinner." 

"I  don't  like  fighting.  Jack,  when  it  can  be  avoided, 
and  I  don't  think  that  you  are  quarrelsome  though  you 
do  get  into  so  many  fights." 

"Indeed  I  am  not  quarrelsome,  Mr.  Merton;  I  never 
quarrel  with  any  one.  If  any  of  the  big  chaps  interfere 
with  us  and  want  to  fight,  of  course  I  am  ready,  or  if 
chaps  from  the  other  pits  think  that  they  can  knock  our 
chaps  about,  of  course  I  show  them  that  the  Vaughans 
can  fight,  or  if  I  see  any  fellow  pitching  into  a  young 
one " 


9g.  FAQINQ  DEATH. 

"Or,  in  factj  Jack,  on  any  pretext  whatever.  Weil,  i? 
it  were  any  one  else  but  yourself  I  should  speak  very 
strongly  against  it ;  but  in  your  case  I  avow  that  I  am 
glad  that  you  have  fought,  and  fought  until,  as  I  know, 
no  one  anywhere  neai"  your  age  will  fight  with  you,  be» 
cause  it  now  makes  you  more  useful  for  my  purpose." 

Jack  looked  astonished  again.  "You  don't  want  ma 
to  thrash  any  one,  Mr.  Merton?"  he  said;  "because  if 
you  do " 

"No,  no.  Jack,  nothing  is  further  from  my  thoughts. 
I  want  you  to  get  the  lads  of  your  own  age  to  join  a 
night-school,  and  to  become  a  more  decent  Christian  set 
of  young  fellows  than  they  are  now.  It  is  just  because 
you  can  fight  well,  and  are  looked  up  to  by  the  lads  as 
their  natural  leader,  that  you  can  do  this.  Were  any 
one  else  to  try  it  he  would  fail.  He  would  be  regarded 
as  a  milksop,  and  be  called  a  girl,  and  a  Molly,  and  all 
sorts  of  names,  and  no  one  would  join  him.  Now  with 
you  they  can't  say  this,  and  boys  joining  would  say  to 
those  who  made  fun  of  them,  'There's  Jack  Simpson,  he '3 
one  of  us;  you  go  and  call  him  Molly  and  see  what  you'll 
get. '  Now  you  can  talk  to  j-our  comrades,  and  point  out 
to  them  the  advantages  of  learning  and  decent  manners. 
Show  that  not  only  will  they  become  happier  men,  but 
that  in  a  worldly  point  of  view  they  will  benefit,  for  that 
the  mine  owners  have  difficulty  in  getting  men  with 
sufficient  education  to  act  as  overmen  and  viewers.  Get 
them  to  agree  to  keep  from  drink  and  from  the  foul 
language  which  makes  the  streets  horrible  to  a  decent 
person.  You  can  work  a  revolution  in  the  place.  You 
won't  get  them  to  do  all  this  at  present,  but  the  first  step 
is  to  get  them  to  attend  a  night-school.  I  have  for  the 
last  year  been  thinking  over  the  matter,  and  was  intend- 
ing to  speak  to  you  about  it  when  the  strike  began,  and 


FACIITG  BEATS.  99 

everything  else  "was  put  aside.  Now,  I  have  spoken  to 
ray  successor,  and  he  is  willing,  &:id  indeed  anxious,  to 
cpen  such  a  school  if  the  young  fellows  can  be  induced 
to  come." 

Jack  sat  for  some  time  in  silence.  He  was  always  slow 
at  coming  to  a  conclusion,  and  liked  to  think  over  every 
eide  of  a  question. 

"How  often  would  it  be  held,  sir?"  he  asked  presently. 

"Two  or  three  nights  a  week.  Jack.  Those  who  are 
anxious  to  get  on  can  do  as  you  did  and  work  between 
times. " 

"Two  nights  would  be  enough  at  first,"  Jack  said; 
"but  I  think,  yes,  I  think  I  could  get  some  of  them  to 
give  that.  Harry  Shepherd  would,  I'm  sure,  and  Bill 
Cummings,  and  Fred  Wood,  and  I  think  five  or  six 
ethers.  Yes,  sir,  I  think  we  could  start  it,  and  all  I  can 
do  I  will.  It  would  do  a  sight — I  mean  a  great  deal  of 
good.  I'll  come  myself  at  first,  sir,  and  then  if  any  of 
them  maka  a  noise  or  play  games  with  the  schoolmaster 
I'll  lick  'em  next  day." 

"No,  Jack,  I  don't  think  that  would  do,  but  your 
presence  would  no  doubt  aid  the  master  at  first.  And 
you'll  think  of  the  other  things,  Jack,  the  drinking,  and 
the  bad  language,  and  so  on." 

"I'll  do  what  I  can,  Mr.  Merton,"  Jack  said  simply, 
"but  it  must  be  bit  by  bit." 

"That's  right  Jack  I  knew  that  I  could  rely  upon  you; 
and  now  come  in  to  tea,  and  there  was  one  thing  I  wanted 
to  say :  I  v/ant  you  once  a  month  to  come  over  to  me  at 
Birmingham  on  Saturday  afternoon  and  stay  till  Sunday 
evening.  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me ;  I  shall  see 
how  you  are  getting  on,  and  shall  hear  all  the  new  of 
Stokebridge. " 

"I  am  very  much   obliged   to  you,  sir,"  Jack  said, 


100  FACING  DEATH. 

coloring  with  plsasure,  "but  I  am  afraid  I  am  not,  not 
fit " 

"You  are  fit  to  associate  with  any  one.  Jack,  and  it  is 
good  for  you  that  you  should  occasionally  have  other 
association  than  that  of  your  comrades  of  the  pit.  You 
will  associate  with  people  of  higher  rank  than  mine,  if 
you  live,  and  it  is  well  that  you  should  become  accus- 
tomed to  it.  And  now.  Jack,  I  know  j'ou  will  not  take  it 
amiss,  but  clothes  do  go  for  something,  and  I  should 
advise  you  to  go  to  a  good  tailor's  at  Birmingham  the 
first  time  you  come  over — I  will  obtain  the  address  of 
such  an  one — and  order  j'ourself  a  suit  of  Avell-made 
clothes.  As  you  get  on  in  life  you  will  learn  that  first 
impressions  go  a  long  way,  and  that  the  cut  of  the 
clothes  have  not  a  little  to  do  with  first  impressions.  I 
shall  introduce  you  to  my  friends  there,  simply  as  a 
friend;  not  that  either  you  or  I  are  ashamed  of  your 
working  in  a  pit — indeed,  that  is  your  highest  credit — ■ 
but  it  would  spare  j'ou  the  comments  and  silly  questions 
which  would  be  put  to  you.  Kow  let  us  go  into  the 
next  room.     Alice  will  be  expecting  us." 

Jack  had  taken  tea  with  Mr.  Merton  more  than  once 
since  that  first  evening  before  the  strike,  and  was  now 
much  more  at  his  ease  with  Miss  Merton,  vrho,  having 
heard  from  her  father  that  it  v*'as  he  who  saved  the 
Vaughan  pit,  viewed  him  with  a  constant  feeling  of 
astonishment.  It  seemed  so  strange  to  her  that  this 
quiet  lad,  who  certainly  stood  in  awe  of  her,  although  he 
was  a  year  her  senior,  should  have  done  such  a  daring 
action ;  equally  wonderful  to  think  that  in  spite  of  his 
well-chosen  words  and  the  attainments  her  father  thought 
so  highly  of,  he  was  yet  a  pit  boy,  like  the  rough,  noisy 
lads  of  the  village. 

A  week  later  Mr.  IMerton  and  his  daughter  left  Stoko- 


FACING  DEATH.  101 

bridge,  and  upon  the  following  day  his  Buccessor  arrived, 
and  Jack,  at  Mr.  Merton's  request,  called  upon  him  the 
Bame  evening.  He  was  a  tall  man  of  some  forty  years 
old,  with  a  face  expressive  of  quiet  power.  Jack  felt  at 
once  that  he  should  like  him. 

He  received  the  lad  very  kindly.  "I  have  heard  so 
much  of  you  from  Mr.  Merton,"  he  said,  "and  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  be  a  great  help  to  me.  Harriet,"  he  said 
to  his  wife,  a  bright-looking  woman  of  about  thirty-five 
years  old,  who  came  into  the  room,  "this  Mr.  Simpson, 
of  whom  Mr.  Merton  spoke  so  highly  to  me.  My  wife  is 
going  to  have  the  girls'  school,  have  you  heard?" 

"No,  indeed,"  Jack  said;  "Mr.  Merton  did  not  men- 
tion it. " 

"It  was  only  settled  yesterday;  the  managers  heard 
that  my  wife  was  a  trained  mistress,  and  as  they  were 
going  to  pension  off  the  present  mistress  they  offered  it 
to  her." 

"I  am  very  glad,"  Jack  said,  "for  Mrs.  White  has 
long  been  past  her  work,  and  the  girls  did  pretty  well  as 
thej''  liked." 

"I  expect  to  have  some  trouble  with  them  at  first," 
Mrs.  Dodgson  said  cheerfully.  "I  often  tell  my  husband 
girls  are  ever  so  much  more  troublesome  than  boys,  but 
I  dare  say  I  shall  manage;  and  now,  Mr.  Simpson,  we  are 
just  going  to  have  supper,  will  you  join  us?  It  will  be 
our  first  regular  meal  in  the  house." 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  Jack  said,  coloring  and  hesi- 
tating, "but  I  think,  perhaps,  you  don't  know  that  I  am 
only  a  lad  in  the  pit." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense,"  Mrs.  Dodgson  said,  "what  has 
that  to  do  with  it?  "Why,  Mr.  Merton  says  that  you  will 
be  John's  right  hand.  Besides,  you  will  be  able  to  tell 
US  all  about  the  people  we  shall  have  to  do  with." 


102  FAUING  DEATH, 

In  anotlier  momcat  Jack  rtc-B  .ifet/iied  at  Walo,  and  .taal' y 
enjoyed  tho  meal,  ligbtcassS,  as  io  ■':7aD,  by  filie  pleasfiiii 
talk  oi  his  hostess,  and  tbs  gtWv6  'mt  :iio£  1639  kindly?  CCE--* 
¥©rsatioa  of  aai*  h'lsbsQ.^^ 


FACIJSIQ  LEATH.  103 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE     NIGHT     SCHOOL. 

Jack  found  that,  as  he  expected,  his  friends,  Harry- 
Shepherd,  Bill  Cummings,  and  Fred  Wood,  would  be 
glad  to  attend  a  night-school,  and  to  work  in  earnest; 
for  the  example  of  what  Jack  had  done  for  himself,  even 
so  far  as  they  knew,  had  excited  a  strong  desire  for  im- 
-provement  among  them.  Thej',  however,  were  doubtful 
as  to  others,  and  agreed  that  it  would  not  do  to  propose 
it  in  a  straightforward  manner,  but  that  a  good  deal  of 
careful  management  would  be  necessary. 

Jack,  it  was  arranged,  should  open  the  subject  after 
leading  up  to  it  carefully.  Harry  should  be  the  first  to 
consent.  Bill  Cummings  was  to  give  in  his  adhesion  when 
we  saw  signs  of  wavering  among  the  others,  and  Fred 
Wood  to  delay  his  until  a  moment  when  his  coming  for- 
ward would  be  useful. 

The  following  Saturday,  when  many  of  them  were 
always  together,  should  be  the  occasion,  and  Fred  Wood 
was  to  lead  up  to  the  matter  by  asking  Jack  some  ques- 
tions as  to  the  relative  bigness  of  the  earth  and  the  sun. 

Saturday  came,  the  lads  gathered  in  a  field  which  be- 
longed to  the  Vaughan,  and  upon  which  a  great  tip  of 
rubbish  and  shale  was  gradually  encroaching.  Here 
choosing  sides  they  played  at  rounders  for  a  couple  of 
hours,  and  then  flung  themselves  down  on  the  grass. 
Some  of  them  lighted  pipes,  and  all  enjoyed  the  quiet  of 
the  fine  autumn  evening. 


104  FAVIN&  DEATH. 

Presently  Fred  Wood  artfully  fired  off  the  questioaa 
he  had  prepared,  wliich  Jack  answered, 

"What  a  sight  o'  things  thou  know'st,  Jack!"  Bill 
Ciimmings  said. 

"I  don't  know  much  yet.  Bill,  bat  I  hopes  to  know  a 
goodish  deal  some  day." 

"And  thou  really  lik'st  reading,  Jack?  I  hate  it," 
John  Jordan  said. 

"I  didn't  like  it  ower  much  at  first,"  Jack  answered, 
*'but  as  I  got  on  I  liked  it  more  and  mors.  I  wish  you 
chaps  had  the  chances  I  had.  It  isn't  everyone  who 
would  take  the  pains  wi'  a  fellow  as  Merton  took  wi'  me. " 

"What  ud  be  t'  good  o't?"  John  Jordan  asked.  "I 
doan't  see  no  good  in  knov/ing  that  t'  sun  be  a  hundred 
thousand  times  as  big  as  t'  world." 

"There's  use  in  a  great  deal  o'  what  one  gets  to  know, 
though,"  Jack  said;  "not  so  much  now  as  some  day, 
maybe.  A  chap  as  has  some  sort  o'  edication  has 
chances  over  another  o'  being  chosen  as  a  viewer  or  an 
oversman." 

"Oh!  that's  what  thou  be'est  looking  forward  to.  Jack, 
eh?  Well,  there's  summat  in  that,  and  I  shouldna' 
wonder  if  we  see  thee  that  some  day;  but  we  can't  all  ba 
oversmen. " 

"Not  in  the  Vaughan,"  Jack  said;  "but  there's  plenty 
o'  other  pits  and  a  chap  as  has  got  his  head  screwed  on 
straight,  and  can  write  well  and  figure  a  bit,  and  have 
read  up  his  work,  may  always  look  forward  to  getting  a 
step  up  wherever  he  goes.  Besides,  look  at  the  differ- 
ence it  makes  to  the  pleasures  o'  life.  What  has  a  man 
got  to  do  who  ain't  learnt  to  be  fond  o'  reading?  Nowt 
but  to  go  to  t'  public  to  spend  his  evenings  and  drink 
away  his  earnings.  So  'ee  goes  on,  and  his  woife  doan't 
care  about  taking  pains  about  a  house  when  t'  maister 


FACmO  DEATH.  105 

ain't  never  at  home  but  to  bis  meals,  and  his  children 
get  to  look  for  him  coming  home  drank  and  smashing 
the  things,  and  when  he  gets  old  he's  just  a  broken- 
down  drunkard,  wi'out  a  penny  saved,  and  nowt  but  the 
poorhouse  before  him.  Now,  that's  the  sort  o'  life  o'  a 
man  who  can't  read,  or  can't  read  well  enough  to  take 
pleasure  in  it,  has  before  him.     That  is  so,  bean't  it?" 

There  was  a  long  silence;  all  the  lads. knew  that  the 
picture  was  a  true  one. 

"Now  look  at  t'other  side, "  Jack  went  on;  "look  at 
Merton.  He  didn't  get  moore  pay  a  week  than  a  pitman 
does;  look  how  he  lived,  how  comfortable  everything 
■was!  What  a  home  that  ud  be  for  a  man  to  go  back  to 
after  his  work  was  done!  Noice  furniture,  a  wife  looking 
forward  neat  and  tidy  to  j'our  coming  hoam  for  the  even- 
ing. Your  food  all  comfortable,  the  kids  clean  and  neat, 
and  delighted  to  see  feyther  home." 

There  was  again  a  long  silence. 

"Where  be  the  girls  to  make  the  tidy  wife  a'  coomiug 
from,  I  wonder?"  John  Jordan  said ;  "not  in  Stokebridge 
I  reckon!" 

"The  lasses  take  mostly  after  the  lads,"  Jack  said. 
"If  we  became  better  they'd  bo  ashamed  to  lag  behind. 
Mrs.  Dodgson,  the  new  schoolmaister's  wife,  told  me 
t'other  day  she  thought  o'  opening  a  sort  o'  night  class 
for  big  girls,  to  teach  them  sewing,  and  making  their 
own  clothes,  and  summat  about  cooking,  and  such  like." 

"That  would  be  summat  like,"  said  Harry  Shepherd, 
who  saw  that  his  opportunity  had  come.  "I  wonder 
whether  t'  maister  would  open  a  night-school  for  us;  I'd 
go  for  one,  quick  enough.  I  doau't  know  as  I've  rightly 
thought  it  over  before,  but  now  ye  puts  it  in  that  way. 
Jack,  there  be  no  doubt  i'  my  moind  that  I  should;  it 
would  be  a  heap  better  to  get  some  larning,  and  to  live 
like  a  decent  kind  o'  chap." 


206  FACING  DEATH. 

"I  doan't  know,"  John  Jordan  said;  "it  moigM  be 
better,  but  look  what  a  lot  o'  work  one  ud  have  to  do." 

"Well,  John,  I  always  finds  plenty  o'  time  for  play,'' 
Jack  said.  "You  could  give  an  hour  a  day  to  it,  and 
now  the  winter's  coming  on  you'd  be  main  glad  some- 
times as  you'd  got  summat  to  do.  I  should  ha'  to  talk 
to  the  schoolmaister  a  bit.  I  doan't  know  as  he'd  ba 
willing  to  give  up  his  time  of  an  evening  two  or  three 
evenings  a  week,  saj'  two,  when  he's  been  at  work  all 
day.     It  be  a  good  deal  to  ask  a  man,  that  is." 

"It  be,  surely,"  Harry  said,  "but  what  a  sight  o' 
good  it  would  do,  and  if  his  woife  be  willing  to  give  oop 
her  time  to  the  girls,  maybe  he  would  do  as  much  for 
us."  There  was  a  pause  again.  Several  of  the  lada 
looked  irresolute. 

"Well,"  Bill  Cummings  said,  "I  be  ready  for  another 
if  some  more  of  'ee  will  join't. "  The  example  was  con- 
tagious.    Four  others  agreed  to  join. 

"Come,"  Harry  Shepherd  said,  "it  bean't  no  use  if 
Jack  can't  tell  schoolmaister  that  a  dozen  o'  us  will  come 
in  ef  he  will  open  a  school  two  nights  a  week.  You'll 
ioin,  woan't  you,  Fred  Wood?" 

"Oi  allers  hated  my  books,"  Fred  gaid,  "and  used  to 
be  bottom  o'  class.  It  ain't  as  I  doan't  believe  what 
Jack  Simpson  says ;  there  be  no  doubt  as  it  would  be  a 
sight  better  lookout  if  one  got  to  be  fond  o'  books  and 
such  loike.  I  don't  believe  as  ever  I  shall  be,  but  I 
doan't  mind  giving  it  a  trial  for  six  months,  and  if  at  the 
end  o'  that  time  I  doan't  like  it,  why  I  jacks  it  oop." 

The  adhesion  of  this  seemingly  reluctant  recruit  set- 
tled the  matter.  Even  John  Jordan  yielded  upon  the 
same  terms,  and  the  whole  party,  fifteen  in  number,  put 
down  their  names,  and  Jack  Simpson  undertook  to  speak 
to  Mr.  Dodgson. 


FAClNa  DEATH.  107 

"See  how  we  sliall  get  laughed  at,"  John  Jordan  saic!, 
''^Why,  wo  shall  get  made  fuu  o'  by  the  v/hole  place." 

"Let  'em  laugh,"  Jack  said,  "they  won't  laugh  long. 
I  never  was  laughed  at,  and  why  should  you  be?  They 
canna  call  us  Jennies,  for  we  sixteen  will  play  any  six- 
teen wi'in  five  miles  round,  at  any  game  they  like,  o? 
fight  'em  if  it  comes  to  that.  We  has  only  got  to  stick 
together.  I  shan't  be  one  of  the  night-school,  but  I  am 
one  wi'  you,  and  we'll  just  stick  together.  Don't  let  us 
mind  if  they  do  laugh ;  if  they  go  on  at  it,  and  I  doubt 
they  will,  just  offer  to  fight  any  one  your  own  size,  and 
if  he  be  bigger  than  yoxx  like  I'll  take  him  in  hand." 

"That's  it,"  Harry  Shepherd  said  enthusiastically; 
"we'll  stick  together,  and  you  see  how  we'll  get  on;  and 
look  here,  I  vote  we  each  pay  threepence  a  week,  that 
will  get  us  a  room  at  two  bob,  and  candles.  Then  we 
can  work  a'  night  wi'out  being  disturbed." 

"This  be  a  good  idea  o'  thine,  Harry.  I'll  give  my 
threepence  a  week  as  well  as  the  rest,  and  I'll  come  in  on 
the  nights  when  you  don't  go  so  school  and  help  any 
that  wants  it." 

"Yes,"  Bill  Cummings  said,  "and  we'll  send  round 
challenges  to  the  other  pits  to  play  football  and  rounders. 
I  vote  we  call  ourselves  the  'Bulldogs,*  and  Jack  shall 
be  our  captain." 

The  proposition  was  carried  with  unanimity,  and  the 
"Bulldogs"  became  a  body  from  that  time.  Harry  was 
appointed  treasurer,  and  the  first  week's  subscriptions 
were  paid  forthwith,  and  an  hour  later  a  room  was  hired. 

"Halloo!"  Fred  Wood  said,  as  they  poured  in  and  took 
possession;  "we  forgot  furniture.  We  must  have  a  table 
and  some  benches." 

"It  is  the  captain's  duty  to  provide  furniture,"  Jack 
Baid.     "I  will  get  a  big  table  and  some  benches  on  Mon- 


108  FACING  DEATH. 

daj',  and  then  we'll  draw  up  rules  and  get  'em  framed 
and  hung  over  the  fireplace,  then  we  shall  be  all  in 
order." 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  happy  than  this  plan 
of  starting  a  club;  it  gave  all  the  members  a  lively  in- 
terest in  the  matter,  and  united  them  by  a  bond  which 
would  keep  the  lazy  and  careless  from  hanging  back,  and 
it  was  quite  with  a  sense  of  excitement  that  they  met  on 
the  Monday  evening. 

Jack  had  got  a  large  table  and  some  benches.  Ink- 
stands, slates,  paper  and  pencils  were  on  the  table,  and 
four  candles  were  burning.  He  took  the  place  of  honor 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  the  others,  much  pleased 
with  the  appearance  of  the  room,  took  their  seats  round 
the  table. 

"In  the  first  place,"  Jack  said,  striking  the  table  with 
his  fist  to  call  for  order,  "I  have  to  report  to  you  that  I 
ha'  seen  the  schoolmaister,  and  he  says  that  he  will  will- 
ingly give  two  hours  two  nights  a  week  to  teaching  the 
•Bulldogs.'  " 

This  announcement  was  received  with  great  applause, 
for  the  lads  had  all  become  deeply  interested  in  the 
matter. 

"He  says  Tuesdays  and  Fridays  will  suit  him,  from 
seven  till  nine;  and  I  have,  in  your  name,  accepted  with 
very  many  thanks  his  offer;  for,  lads,  it  be  no  light 
thing  that  a  man  who  has  been  all  day  teaching  should 
give  up  two  evenings  a  week  to  help  us  on,  and  that 
■wi'out  charge  or  payment." 

"That's  so,  Jackl"  Fred  Wood  said.  "I  vote  we 
pass  a  vote  o'  thanks  to  Mr.  Dodgson." 

There  was  a  chorus  of  approval. 

"Some  on  ha'  got  to  second  that  proposal,"  Jack  said; 
"we  must  do  things  in  the  proper  form." 


FACING  DEATL.  109 

'"I  second  it,"  Jolm  Jordan  said. 

"Very  well,"  Jack  said,  "are  you  all  agreed?"  **A11." 
**Very  well,  then,  I'll  wrvte  that  out  neatly  in  this  book 
X  ha' bought  to  keep  the  records  o'  the  club,  and  I'll 
send  a  copy  to  Mr.  Dodgson ;  I'm  sure  he  will  be  pleased, 
I  had  best  act  as  secretary  as  well  as  captain  at  present, 
till  one  o'  you  gets  on  wi*  bis  writing  and  can  take  it  oS 
my  bands.  Now  we  must  draw  out  our  rules.  First,  wo 
must  put  down  that  the  following  are  the  original  mem- 
bers of  the  Bulldog  Club.  Then,  that  the  objects  of  the 
club  are  to  improve  ourselves,  and  to  make  decent  men 
o'  ourselves.  Next,  to  stick  together  in  a  body  and  to 
play  all  sorts  o'  games  against  any  other  set.  All  that's 
been  agreed,  ain't  it?" 

There  were  cries  of  "Ay,  ay,"  and  Jack  wrote  down 
the  items  on  the  sheet  of  paper  before  him. 

"Now  about  new  members.  Do  v/e  mean  to  keep  it  to 
ourselves,  or  to  let  in  other  chaps?" 

"Keep  it  to  ourselves,"  shouted  several. 

"Well,  I  dunno, "  Harry  Shepherd  said;  "if  this  is 
going  to  do  us  as  much  good  as  we  hopes,  and  think  it 
is,  would  it  be  right  to  keep  the  chaps  o'  the  place  out? 
O'  course  we  wouldn't  go  beyond  Stokebridge,  but  we 
might  keep  it  to  that." 

That  point  was  hotly  debated,  the  majority  being  in 
favor  of  confining  the  club  to  its  present  members;  some 
saying  that  if  it  were  opened  the  original  members  would 
be  swamped  by  numbers,  and  that  their  bond  of  union 
would  be  broken. 

"When  all  bad  spoken  Jack  Simpson  said  : 

"I  think  we  might  go  between  both  opinions.  If  v/e 
were  to  limit  the  club  to  twenty-four  members,  this  room 
would  just  about  hold  'em.  We  would  only  elect  one  each 
week,  so  as  to  have  time  to  make  a  good  choice.     Any 


liO  FACING  BEATS. 

^joember  wlio  broke  the  rules  or  made  hiraself  unplearjanj 
;vould  be  expelled,  and  so  we  should  see  iu  awhile  all  the 
young  chaps  o'  t'  villags  wanting  to  join,  and  it  would 
get  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  feather  in  a  chap's  cap  to  be- 
long to  it." 

This  proposal  was  agreed  to  unanimously. 

"Now  the  nest  rule  I  propose,"  Jack  said,  "is  that 
this  room  is  to  be  used  from  seven  to  nine  for  work.  No 
talking  to  be  allowed,  Arter  nine,  books  to  be  put  away 
and  pipes  to  be  lit  by  them  as  smoke,  and  to  talk  till 
ten.  I  ha'  been  talking  to  the  woman  o'  the  house,  and 
she  will  supply  cups  o'  coffee  or  tea  at  a  penny  apiece 
between  nine  and  ten." 

This  rule  was  agreed  to  without  a  dissentient  voice. 

"Now,"  Jack  said,  "I  doan't  know  as  you'll  all  like 
the  next  rule  I  ha'  to  propose,  bat  I  do  think  it  is  a 
needful  one.  That  is,  that  no  swearing  or  bad  language 
be  used  in  this  room,  a  fine  of  a  penny  being  inflicted 
for  each  time  the  rule  be  broken." 

There  was  a  dead  silence. 

"You  see,"  Jack  said,  "you  will  all  be  fined  a  few 
times  at  first,  but  this  money  will  go  to  the  club  fund, 
and  will  help  up  to  get  fires  i'  winter.  You'll  soon 
break  yourselves  of  it,  it  be  only  a  trick.  I  did.  Mr. 
Merton  told  me  that  it  was  a  bad  habit  and  horrible  to 
decent  people.  I  said  I  could  never  break  myself  o't. 
He  said  if  I  fined  myself  a  penny  every  time  I  did  it,  and 
put  it  in  the  poor  box  o'  Sunday,  I  should  soon  get  out 
o'  t*  way.  Well,  the  first  day  cost  me  thirteen  pence,  the 
next  four  pence,  and  afterward  it  was  only  a  penny  now 
and  then.  First  and  last  it  didn't  cost  me  half  a  crown, 
and  you  never  hear  me  swear  or  use  bad  language  now. 
Come,  Bulldogs,  this  will  be  the  first  step  toward  im- 
proving yourselves,  and  when  you  find  how  easy  it  be  to 
do  wi'out  it  here,  you  will  soon  do  wi'out  it  outside." 


FACING  DEATH.  Ill 

The  rule  v.-as  finally  agreed  to,  but  during  tlie  firsfi 
week  it  caused  a  good  deal  of  heart-burning  in  the  clul). 
One  of  the  members  left  altogether,  but  the  rest  soon 
found  that  the  fines,  which  had  been  so  alarming  for  tha 
first  day  or  two,  dwindled  down. 

It  cost  the  Bulldogs  collectively  ovar  three  pounds  to 
cure  themselves  of  using  bad  language,  and  the  fines 
kept  them  in  firing,  paper,  pens,  and  ink  all  the  v/inter. 

On  the  evening  after  the  opening  of  the  club-room  the 
whole  party,  accompanied  by  Jack,  went  to  the  night- 
school.  They  looked  rather  shame-faced  as  they  tramped 
in,  but  Jack  introduced  them  one  by  one  to  the  master, 
who  with  a  few  cordial  w'ords  put  them  at  their  ease. 
For  the  first  night  he  contented  himself  by  finding  out 
how  much  each  knew,  how  much  he  remembered  of  what 
he  had  formerly  heard.  For  the  last  half  hour  he  gave 
them  a  short  lecture  on  geography,  drawing  a  map  on 
the  blackboard,  taking  a  traveler  from  place  to  place, 
and  telling  them  what  he  saw  there.  Then  he  set  them 
each  a  task  to  be  learned  and  a  few  sums  to  be  done  by 
the  following  Friday,  and  they  returned  to  the  clubroom 
greatly  pleased  with  the  first  night's  lessons. 

It  was  not  always  so  light,  but  the  lads  were  in  earnest 
and  really  worked  hard.  Jack  visited  the  room  on  the 
off  nights,  explained  questions  they  did  not  understand, 
and  after  nine  o'clock  generally  read  aloud  for  half  an 
hour  while  they  smoked;  that  is  to  saj^  he  read  short 
sentences  and  then  one  or  other  read  them  after  him,  Jack 
correcting  mistakes  in  dialect  and  pronunciation. 

Mr.  Merton  had  indeed  been  a  friend  to  Jack  Simpson, 
but  there  was  another  friend  to  whom,  according  to  his 
promise.  Jack  reported  his  doings,  not  telling  every- 
thing, perhaps,  for  Jack  was  not  very  apt  to  talk  or  write 
about  himself ;  but  once  a  year  he  sent  a  letter  in  reply  to 


112  FACIIt'G  LEATS. 

a  long  and  wise  one  whicli  he  received  from  his  friencl 
the  artist,  according  to  their  agreement,  for  Jack  had 
not  "given  up." 

Before  the  end  of  a  month  Mr.  Dodgson  wrote  to  Mr. 
Merton  saying  that,  thanks  to  Jack,  the  night-school  was 
a  great  success,  that  the  lads  ail  behaved  extremely  well, 
and  were  making  really  surprising  efforts  to  improve 
themselves.  He  augured  great  tilings  for  tie  village 
from  the  movemteut. 


FACUJa  DEATH,  113 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE     SEWING-CLASS. 

Stokebridge  contained  altogether  a  population  of  some 
three  thousand  souls,  of  whom  more  than  half  consisted 
of  the  men  and  boj's  of  the  Vaughan  mine,  and  the 
families  dependent  upon  them.  It  was  a  place  where, 
except  as  to  accidents  at  one  or  other  of  the  pits,  news 
was  scarce,  and  a  small  thing  therefore  created  much 
interest.  Thus  the  news  that  the  new  schoolmaster  had 
opened  a  night-school,  and  that  some  sixteen  or  eighteen 
of  the  lads  belonging  to  the  Vaughan  had  joined  it, 
created  quite  an  excitement.  At  first  the  statement  was 
received  with  positive  disbelief.  There  was  no  precedent 
for  such  a  thing,  and  in  its  ways  at  least  Stokebridge 
was  strictly  conservative. 

When  the  tale  was  confirmed  wonder  took  the  place  of 
unbelief.  The  women  were  unanimous  in  the  opinion 
that  if  the  school  only  kept  the  lads  from  drink  it  would 
be  a  blessing  to  the  place.  Drink  was  indeed  the  grand 
test  by  which  they  viewed  all  things.  To  anything 
which  led  lads  to  avoid  this  curse  of  their  homes  their 
approval  was  certain  and  complete.  Whether  the  ac- 
quisition of  learning  was  likely  to  improve  their  pros- 
pects in  life,  or  to  make  them  better  men,  was  not  con- 
sidered ;  the  great  point  about  the  new  organization  was 
that  it  would  keep   them   from  the  public  houses,  the 


114  FACING  DEATE. 

curses  of  the  v/orkingmen,  and  still  more  of  the  workings 
men's  wives  and  families,  of  this  country. 

Among  the  men,  who  were,  boweyer,  disposed  to  view 
the  matter  as  a  boy's  fancy  which  wo'jld  soon  die  awav, 
the  movement  met  with  slight  approval.  New-fangled 
notions  were  held  in  but  low  estimation  among  the 
miners  of  Stokebridge.  They  had  got  on  wi'out  lam- 
ing, and  saw  no  reason  why  t'  lads  could  not  do  as  they 
had  done.  "They'll  be  a  cocking  they  noses  oop 
aboove  their  feythers,joost  acause  they  know  moore  read- 
ing and  writing,  but  what  good  ull  it  do  they  I  won- 
der?" an  elderly  pitman  asked  a  circle  of  workmen  at  tlia 
''Chequers;"  and  a  general  affirmatory  grunt  betokened 
assent  with  the  spirit  of  his  words. 

Among  the  young  men,  those  of  from  eighteen  to 
twenty -three  or  twenty -four,  the  opposition  was  still 
stronger,  for  here  a  strong  feeling  of  jealousy  was  aroused 
at  the  thought  that  their  juniors  were,  as  they  considered, 
stealing  a  march  upon  them.  Gibes  and  jeers  were 
showered  upon  the  Bulldogs,  and  two  of  them  were 
ducked  in  the  canal  by  a  party  of  five  or  six  of  their 
elders.  On  scrambling  out,  however,  they  ran  back  to 
the  village,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  headed  by  Jack  at 
once  started  on  the  warpath.  Coming  up  to  the  band 
who  had  assaulted  their  comrades  they  fell  upon  them 
with  fury,  and  in  spite  of  the  latter's  superior  individual 
strength,  thrashed  them  soundly,  and  then  gave  them  a 
ducking  in  the  canal,  similar  to  that  which  they  had  in- 
flicted. After  that  it  came  to  be  understood  in  Stoke- 
bridge that  it  was  best  to  leave  the  Bulldogs  alone,  or 
at  least  to  be  content  with  verbal  assaults,  at  which  in- 
deed the  lads  were  able  to  hold  their  own. 

But  it  was  among  the  girls  of  Stokebrdge,  those  of 
from  fourteen  to  seventeen  years  old,  that  this  movement 


FACING  DEATH.  115 

upon  the  part  of  the  hoys  excited  the  greatest  discussions 
and  the  widest  divergence  of  opinion.  Up  to  the  time 
of  the  strike  Jack  Simpson  had  been  by  no  means  popular 
among  their  class.  It  was  an  anomaly  in  Stokebridge 
that  a  lad  should  have  no  avowed  favorite  of  his  own  age 
among  the  lasses.  These  adhesions  were  not  often  of  a 
permanent  character,  although  later  on  sometimes  mar- 
riages came  of  them,  but  for  a  time,  and  until  the  almost 
inevitable  quai-rel  came,  they  were  regarded  as  binding. 
The  lad  would  sometimes  buy  a  ribbon  or  neckerchief  for 
the  lass,  and  she  and  two  or  three  others  would  accom- 
pany him  as  with  some  of  his  comrades  he  strolled  in  the 
lanes  on  Sundaj',  or  would  sit  by  him  on  a  wall  or  a  balk 
of  timber  as  he  smoked  and  talked  with  his  friends. 

Jack's  rigid  seclusion  after  his  hour  of  play  was  over, 
his  apparent  indifference  to  the  lasses  of  the  place,  was 
felt  as  a  general  slight,  and  resented  accordinglj^ ;  al- 
though the  girls  were  not  insensible  to  his  prowess  in 
battle  and  in  sports,  to  his  quiet  steadiness  of  character, 
or  to  the  frankness  and  good  temper  of  his  face.  The 
general  opinion,  therefore,  among  the  young  girls  of 
Stokebridge  was  that  he  was  "stuck  up,"  although  in 
fact  few  boys  in  the  place  had  less  of  conceit  and  self- 
glorification  than  he  had. 

"Did  'ee  ever  hear  of  such  a  tale,"  asked  one  of  a 
group  of  girls  sitting  together  on  a  bank,  while  the  little 
ones,  of  whom  they  were  supposed  to  be  in  charge, 
played  and  rolled  on  the  grass,  "as  for  a  lot  o'  boys  to 
go  to  school  again  o'  their  own  free-will?" 

"I  don't  see  no  good  in  it,"  another  said,  "not  for  the 
schooling  they'll  get.  But  if  it  teaches  them  to  keep  out 
o'  the  publics,  it  will  be  good  for  their  wives  some  day." 

"It  will  that,"  put  in  aoother  earnestly;  "my!  low 
feyther  did  beat  mother  last  night;  he  wei'e  as  drunk  as 
could  be,  and  he  went  on  awful. ' ' 


IJQ  .  FACING  DEATH. 

"I  think  sometimes  men  are  worse  nor  beasts,"  an- 
other said. 

"Do  'ee  know  I've  heard,"  Sarah  Shepherd  said,  ''thai; 
the  new  schoolmistress  be  a-going  to  open  a  night  school 
for  girls,  to  teach  sewing,  and  cutting  out,  and  summaS 
o*  cooking."  There  was  a  general  exclamation  of  aston- 
ishment, and  so  strange  was  the  news  that  it  was  soiu3 
time  before  any  one  ventured  a  comment  on  it. 

"What  dost  think  o't?"  Sarah  questioned  at  last. 

"Only  sewing  and  cutting  out  and  cooking  and  such 
like,  and  not  lessons?"  Bess  Thompson  asked  doubt- 
fully. 

"Not  reg'lar  lessons,  I  mean.  She'll  read  out  while 
the  girls  work,  and  perhaps  they  will  read  out  by  turns; 
not  lessons,  3'ou  know,  but  stories  and  tales,  and  travela, 
and  that  kind  o'  book.     What  dost  think  o't?" 

"  'Twould  be  a  good  thing  to  kno\^  how  to  make 
dresses, "  Fannj' Jones,  who  was  fond  of  finery,  remarked. 

"And  other  things,  too,"  put  in  Peggy  Martin,  "ai;>l 
to  cook  too.  Mother  ain't  a  good  hand  at  cooking  rjid 
it  puts  feyther  in  such  tempers,  and  sometimes  I  hardly 
wonder.  I  shall  go  if  some  others  go.  But  be 'est  sura 
it  be  true,  Sally?" 

"Harry  told  me,"  she  said,  "and  I  think  Jack  Simp- 
son told  him  as  the  schoolmaster  said  so." 

The  news  was  too  important  to  be  kept  to  themselves, 
and  there  was  soon  a  general  move  homeward. 

There  Sally  Shepherd's  story  received  confirmation. 
The  schoolmistress  had  been  going  from  house  to  house, 
asking  all  the  women  who  had  daughters  between  the 
ages  of  fifteen  and  eighteen  to  let  them  attend  a  working 
class  in  the  schoolroom  two  evenings  a  week,  and  the 
answer  she  almost  always  received  was,  "Well,  I  ha'  no 
objection  to  my  lass  going  if  she  be  willing;  and  I  think 


FACING  BEA  TH.  ll'J' 

it  would  be  very  good  for  her  to  know  how  to  make  hsif 
clothes;  I  can  hardly  do  a  ctitch  myself." 

Mrs.  Dodgson  had  also  informed  the  women  that  any 
of  them  who  liked  to  supply  the  material  for  undergar- 
ments or  for  children's  dresses  could  have  them  for  tha 
present  made  up  without  charge  by  the  class. 

"But  suppose  they  spiles  'em?" 

"They  won't  spoil  them.  The  work  may  not  be  very 
neat  at  first,  but  the  things  will  be  well  cut  out  and 
strongly  put  together.     I  will  see  to  that." 

In  a  short  time  the  class  was  opened,  and  forty  girls  at 
once  attended.  So  pleased  were  these  with  their  teacher, 
and  with  the  pleasant  books  that  Mr.  Dodgson  read  to 
them — for  his  wife  was  far  too  much  occupied  to  read, 
and  too  wise  to  give  the  girls  a  distaste  for  the  class  by 
asking  them  to  do  so — that  the  number  of  applicants  for 
admission  soon  far  exceeded  the  number  who  could  be 
received. 

Mr.  Brook  heard  shortly  afterward  from  Mr.  Dodgson 
of  the  success  of  the  scheme  and  the  great  benefit  which 
was  likely  to  accrue  from  it,  and  at  once  offered  to  con- 
tribute twenty  pounds  a  year  to  secure  the  services  of  a 
young  woman  capable  of  assisting  in  the  girls'  school  by 
day  and  of  teaching  needlework. 

Thenceforth  the  number  of  class  evenings  was  raised 
to  three  a  week,  and  sixty  girls  in  all  were  admitted. 
The  books  chosen  for  reading  were  not  alwaj's  tales,  but 
for  a  portion  of  each  evening  books  treating  on  domestic 
matters,  the  care  of  a  house,  the  management  of  illness, 
cottage  gardening,  etc.,  were  read;  and  these  were 
found  to  greatly  interest  the  hearers.  The  book  on  gar- 
dening was  a  special  favorite,  and  soon  the  pitmen  were 
astonished  to  see  changes  in  the  tiny  plots  of  ground 
behind   their   houses.     The   men   in  charge  of  the  pit 


118  FACUm  DEATH. 

horses  were  coaxed  for  baskets  of  manure,  pennies  wera 
saved  and  devoted  to  the  purchase  of  seed,  and  the  boys 
found  that  the  most  acceptable  present  was  no  longer  a 
gay  handkerchief  or  ribbon,  but  a  pot  of  flov/ers. 

Revolutions  are  not  made  in  a  day,  but  as  month 
after  month  passed  the  change  in  Stokebridge  became 
marked.  The  place  assumed  a  smarter  and  brighter 
aspect;  it  was  rai-e  to  hear  bad  language  from  lads  or 
girls  in  the  streets,  for  the  young  ones  naturally  followed 
the  fashion  set  by  their  elder  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
as  a  foul  expression  not  unfrequeutly  cost  its  utterer  a 
cuff  on  the  head,  they  soon  became  rare. 

The  girls  became  more  quiet  in  demeanor,  neater  in 
dress,  the  boys  less  noisy  and  aggressive. 

The  boy's  night  school  had  increased  greatly  in  num- 
ber. The  Bulldogs,  after  much  deliberation,  had  de- 
clined to  increase  their  numbers,  but  a^  Jack  Simpson's 
suggestion  it  had  been  agreed  that  any  of  ihem  might 
join  other  similar  associations,  in  order  that  these  might 
be  conducted  on  the  same  lines  as  their  own,  and  the 
benefits  of  which  they  were  conscious  be  thus  distributed 
more  widely.  Four  other  "clubs"  were  in  consequence 
established,  all  looking  upon  the  Bulldogs  as  their  cen- 
tral association. 

The  vicar  of  the  parish  aided  the  efforts  of  the  school- 
master and  mistress  for  the  improvement  of  the  rising 
generation  of  Stokebridge.  Hitherto  all  efforts  that  way 
had  failed,  but  he  now  got  over  a  magic  lantern  from 
Birmingham,  hiring  sets  of  slides  of  scenery  in  foreign 
countries,  astronomical  subjects,  etc.,  and  gave  lectures 
once  a  fortnight.  These  were  well  attended,  and  the 
quiet  attention  with  which  he  was  listened  to  by  the 
younger  portion  of  his  audience  contrasted  so  strongly 
with   the    indifference  or   uproar  with   which  a  similar 


FACINO  DEATH.  119 

attempt  had  been  met  some  two  years  before  that  he  told 
Mr.  Brook  something  like  a  miracle  "was  being  wrought 
in  the  parish. 

Mr.  Brook  warmly  congratulated  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dodg- 
son  on  the  change,  but  these  frankly  said  that  although 
tbey  had  done  their  best,  the  change  was  in  no  slight 
degree  due  to  the  influence  of  one  of  the  pit  lads,  with 
^vhom  Mr.  Merton  had  taken  great  pains,  and  who  was 
certainly  a  remarkable  lad. 

"Ah,  indeed,"  Mr.  Brook  said.  "I  have  a  faint  recol- 
lection of  his  speaking  to  me  some  j'ears  ago  of  one  of 
the  boys;  and,  now  I  think  of  it,  he  is  the  same  boy  who 
behaved  so  bravely  in  going  down  that  old  shaft  to  save 
another  boy's  life.  The  men  gave  him  a  gold  watch;  of 
course,  I  remember  all  about  it  now.  I  am  glad  to  hear 
that  he  is  turning  out  so  well.  In  a  few  years  I  must  see 
what  I  can  do  for  him." 

Mr.  Dodgson  would  have  said  much  more,  but  Mr. 
Merton  had  impressed  upon  him  that  Jack  would  object, 
above  all  things,  to  be  brought  forward,  and  that  it  was 
better  to  let  him  .ivork  his  way  steadily  and  bide  hi? 
time. 

It  was  not  for  some  months  after  the  sewing  classes 
had  been  instituted  that  those  for  cooking  were  estab- 
lished. The  difficulty  was  not  as  to  the  necessary  outlay 
for  stoves  and  utensils,  for  these  Mr.  Brook  at  once 
offered  to  provide,  but  as  to  the  food  to  be  cooked. 

The  experiments  began  on  a  small  scale.  At  first  Mrs. 
Bodgson  sent  round  to  saj'  that  in  all  cases  of  illness  she 
would  have  broths,  puddings,  and  cooling  drinks  pre- 
pared at  the  school  free  of  charge,  upon  the  necessary 
materials  being  sent  to  her.  This  was  followed  by  the 
plan  of  buying  the  materials  for  food  for  invalids,  which 
was  to  be  supplied  at  a  price  that  just  paid  the  cost. 


120  FACING  DEATH. 

Then  little  steak  puddings  and  pies  were  made,  ani 
these  commanded  a  ready  sale;  excellent  soups  from 
cheap  materials  were  also  provided,  and  for  this  in  winter 
the  demand  was  greater  than  they  could  supply ;  and  so 
the  work  was  extended  until  the  two  stoves  were  fully 
occupied  for  three  days  a  week. 

Eight  girls  at  a  time  were  instructed  in  cookery,  doing 
the  whole  work  under  the  supervision  of  the  mistress. 
Two  fresh  hands  came  as  two  left  each  week ;  thus  each 
received  a  month's  teaching.  On  the  first  week  the  new- 
comers simply  cleaned  and  washed  the  utensils,  stoves, 
etc. ;  during  the  remaining  three  weeks  they  learned  to 
make  simple  soups,  puddings,  and  pies,  to  cook  meat 
and  vegetables.  The  time  was  short  for  the  purpose,  but 
the  girls  were  delighted  with  their  lessons,  and  took  the 
greatest  pride  in  keeping  up  the  reputation  of  the  school 
kitchens,  and  learned  at  any  rate  sufficient  to  enable  them 
to  assist  their  mothers  at  home  with  such  effect  that  the 
pitmen  of  Stokebridge  were  astonished  at  the  variety  and 
improvement  of  their  fare. 


IfACma  DEATH,  121 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  NEW  LIFE. 

Jack  Simpson  did  not  forget  the  advice  Mr.  Merton  had 
given  him  about  clothes,  and  a  fortnight  after  his  master 
had  gone  to  Birmingham  Jack  went  over  on  Saturday 
afternoon,  and  his  kind  friend  accompanied  him  to  one 
of  the  leading  tailors  there,  and  he  was  measured  for  two 
suits  of  clothes.  He  went  to  other  shops  and  bought 
such  articles  as  Mr.  Merton  recommended — hats,  gloves, 
boots,  etc.  Mr.  Merton  smiled  to  himself  at  the  grave 
attention  which  Jack  paid  to  all  he  said  upon  the  subject; 
but  Jack  was  always  earnest  in  all  he  undertook,  and  he 
had  quite  appreciated  what  his  friend  had  told  him  as  to 
the  advantage  of  being  dressed  so  as  to  excite  no  atten- 
tion upon  the  part  of  those  whom  he  would  meet  at  Mr. 
Merton 's. 

The  following  Saturday  he  went  over  again,  and  went 
again  to  the  tailor's  to  try  his  things  on. 

"Do  you  want  a  dress  suit,  sir?"  the  foreman  asked 
with  suppressed  merriment. 

"What  is  a  dress  suit?"  Jack  said  simply.  "I  am 
ignorant  about  these  matters." 

"A  dress  suit,"  the  foreman  said,  struck  with  the 
young  fellow's  freedom  from  all  sort  of  pretense  or 
assumption,  "is  the  dress  gentlemen  wear  of  an  evening 
at  dinner  parties  or  other  gatherings.  This  is  it, "  and 
he  showed  Jack  an  eagraving, 


122  FACING  DEATH. 

Jack  looked  at  it — he  had  never  eeen  any  one  so  attired, 

"He  looks  very  affected,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  that  is  the  fault  of  the  artist,"  the  foreman 
answered.  "Gentlemen  look  just  as  natural  in  these 
clothes  as  in  any  other.  They  are  quite  simple,  you  see 
— all  black,  with  open  vest,  white  shirt,  white  tie  and 
gloves,  and  patent  leather  boots." 

A  quiet  smile  stole  over  Jack's  face.  Humor  was  by 
no  means  a  strong  point  in  his  character,  but  he  was  not 
altogether  deficient  in  it. 

"I  had  better  have  them, "  he  said ;  "it  would  look 
strange,  I  suppose,  not  to  be  dressed  so  when  others 
are?" 

"It  would  be  a  little  marked  in  the  event  of  a  dinner 
or  evening  party,"  the  foreman  answered,  and  so  Jack 
gave  the  order.* 

It  was  tAVO  weeks  later  before  he  paid  his  first  vitsit  to 
Mr.  Merton;  for  the  pretty  little  house  which  the  latter 
had  taken  a  mile  out  of  the  town  had  been  in  the  hands 
of  the  workmen  and  furnishers,  Mr.  Merton  having 
drawn  on  his  little  capital  to  decorate  and  fit  up  the 
house,  so  as  to  be  a  pretty  home  for  his  daughter. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  larger  house  than,  from  the  mere 
salary  attached  to  his  post,  he  could  be  able  to  afford, 
but  he  reckoned  upon  considerably  increasing  this  by 
preparing  young  men  for  the  university,  and  he  was  wise 
enough  to  know  that  a  good  establishment  and  a  liberal 
table  go  very  far  in  establishing  and  widening  a  connec- 
tion, and  in  rendering  people  sensible  to  a  man's  merits, 
■either  in  business  or  otherwise. 

As  Mr.  Merton,  M.A.,  late  of  St.  John's,  Cambridge, 
and  third  wrangler  of  his  year,  he  had  already  been  re- 
ceived with  great  cordiality  by  his  colleagues,  and  at 
their  houses  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  many  of  th© 


FACTiYa  DEAlff.  123 

best,  if  not  the  ■wealtliiest  men  in  Birmingham,  for  af; 
Birmingham  the  terms  were  by  no  means  more  synonj-- 
mous  than  they  are  elsewhere. 

Jack  had  ordered  his  clothes  to  be  sent  to  a  small  hotel 
near  the  railway  station,  and  had  arranged  with  the  land- 
lord that  his  portmanteau  should  be  kept  there,  and  a 
room  be  placed  at  his  service  on  Saturday  afternoon  and 
Monday  morning  once  a  month  for  him  to  change  his 
things.  He  had  walked  vvith  Mr.  Merton  and  seen  the  house 
and  had  determined  that  he  would  always  change  before 
going  there  on  a  Saturday,  in  order  to  avoid  comments 
by  servants  and  others  who  might  be  visiting  them. 

In  thus  acting  Jack  had  no  personal  thoughts  in  the 
matter ;  much  as  he  always  shrank  from  being  put  for- 
ward as  being  in  any  way  different  from  others,  he  had 
otherwise  no  s.elf-consciousness  whatever.  No  lad  in  the 
pits  thought  less  of  his  personal  appearance  or  attire, 
and  his  friend  Nelly  had  many  times  taken  him  to  task 
for  his  indifference  in  this  respect.  Mr.  Merton  per- 
ceived advantages  in  Jack's  position  in  life  not  being 
generally  known,  and  Jack  at  once  fell  into  the  arrange- 
ment, and  carried  it  out,  as  described,  to  the  best  of  his 
ability.  But  even  he  could  not  help  seeing,  when  ho 
had  attired  himself  for  his  first  visit  to  I\Ii-.  Merton '3 
house,  how  complete  had  been  the  change  in  his  appear- 
ance. 

"Who  would  have  thought  that  just  a  little  difference 
in  the  make  of  a  coat  would  have  made  such  an  alteration 
in  one's  look?"  he  said  to  himself.  "I  feel  different 
altogether;  but  that  is  nonsense,  except  that  these  boot>^. 
are  so  much  lighter  than  mine  that  it  seems  as  if  I  wera 
in  my  stockings.  Well,  I  suppose  I  shall  soon  be  accus- 
tomed to  it." 

Packing  a  black  coat  and  a  few  other  articles  in  a 


124  FACING  DEATH. 

handbag,  and  locking  up  the  clothes  he  had  taken  off  in 
his  portmanteau.  Jack  started  for  Mr.  Merton's.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  well-fitting  suit  of  dark  tweed,  with  a  claret- 
colored  neckerchief  with  plain  gold  scarf -ring.  Jack's 
life  of  exercise  had  given  him  the  free  use  of  his  limbs — 
he  walked  erect,  and  his  head  was  well  set  back  on  his 
ehoulders;  altogether,  with  his  crisp,  short,  waving  hair, 
his  good-humored  but  resolute  face,  and  his  steadfast 
look,  he  was,  although  not  handsome,  yet  a  very  pleasant- 
looking  young  fellow. 

He  soon  forgot  the  fact  of  his  new  clothes,  except  that 
he  was  conscious  of  walking  with  a  lightness  and  elastic- 
ity strange  to  him,  and  in  half  an  hour  rang  at  the  visi- 
tor's bell  of  Mr.  Merton's  villa. 

"A  visitor,  papa,"  said  Alice,  who  was  sitting  near 
the  window  of  the  drawing-room.  "How  tiresome,  just 
as  we  were  expecting  Jack  Simpson.  It  is  a  gentleman. 
Why,  papa!"  and  she  clapped  her  hands,  "it  is  Jack 
himself.  I  did  not  know  him  at  first;  he  looks  like  a 
gentleman." 

"He  is  a  gentleman,"  Mr.  Merton  said;  "a  true  gen- 
tleman in  thought,  feeling,  and  speech,  and  will  soon 
adapt  himself  to  the  society  he  will  meet  here.  Do  not 
remark  upon  his  dress  unless  he  says  something  about  it 
himself." 

"Oh,  papa,  I  should  not  think  of  such  a  thing,  I  am 
not  so  thoughtless  as  that." 

The  door  was  opened  and  Jack  was  shown  in. 

"How  are  you.  Jack?     I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

"Thank  j'ou,  sir,  I  am  always  well,"  Jack  said.  Then 
turning  to  Miss  Merton  he  asked  her  how  she  liked  Bir- 
mingham. He  had  seen  her  often  since  the  time  when 
he  first  met  her  at  the  commencement  of  the  strike,  as  he 
Jiad  helped  them  in  their  preparations  for  removing  from 


FACING  DEATH.  135 

Stokebridge,  and  had  entirely  got  over  the  embarrass- 
ment which  he  had  felt  on  the  first  evening  spent  there. 

After  talking  for  a  few  minutes.  Jack  said  gravely  to 
Mr.  Merton:  "I  hope  that  these  clothes  will  do,  Mr. 
Merton?" 

"Excellently  well,  Jack,"  he  answered,  smiling;  "they 
have  made  just  the  difference  I  expected;  my  daughter 
hardly  knew  you  when  you  rang  at  the  bell." 

"I  hardly  knew  myself  when  I  saw  myself  in  a  glass," 
Jack  said.  "Now,  on  what  principle  do  you  explain  the 
fact  that  a  slight  alteration  in  the  cutting  and  sewing 
together  of  pieces  of  cloth  should  make  such  a  differ- 
ence?" 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  gave  the  philosophy  of  the 
question  a  moment's  thought.  Jack,"  said  Mr.  Merton, 
smiling.  "I  can  only  explain  it  by  the  remark  that  the 
better  cut  clothes  set  off  the  natural  curve  of  the  neck, 
shoulders,  and  figizre  generally,  and  in  the  second  place, 
being  associated  in  our  minds  with  the  peculiar  garb 
worn  by  gentlemen,  they  give  what,  for  want  of  a  better 
word,  I  may  call  style.  A  high  black  hat  is  the  ugliest, 
most  shapeless,  and  most  unnatural  article  ever  invented, 
but  still  a  high  hat,  good  and  of  the  shape  in  vogue,  cer- 
tainly has  a  more  gentlemanly  effect,  to  use  a  word  I 
hate,  than  any  other.  And  now,  my  boy,  you  I  know 
dined  early ;  so  did  we.  We  shall  have  tea  at  seven,  so 
we  have  three  hours  for  work,  and  there  are  nearly  six 
weeks'  arrears,  so  do  not  let  us  waste  any  more  time." 

After  this  first  visit  Jack  went  out  regularly  once  every 
four  weeks.  He  fell  very  naturally  into  the  ways  of  tho 
bouse,  and  although  his  manner  often  amused  Alice  Mer- 
ton greatly,  and  caused  even  her  father  to  smile,  he  was 
xiever  awkward  or  boorish. 

As  Alice  came  to  know  him  more  thoroughly,  and  their 


1^.6  FACING  DEATH. 

conversations  ceased  to  be  of  a  formal  character,  she 
surprised  and  sometimes  quite  puzzled  him.  The  girl 
was  full  of  fun  and  had  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  and  her 
playful  attacks  upon  his  earnestness,  her  light  way  of 
parrying  the  problems  which  Jack,  ever  on  the  alert  for 
information,  was  constantly  putting,  and  the  cheerful 
tone  which  her  talk  imparted  to  the  general  convarsatioa 
when  she  was  present,  were  ail  wholly  new  to  the  lad. 
Often  he  did  not  know  whether  she  was  in  earnest  or  not, 
and  was  sometimes  so  overwhelmed  by  her  light  attacks 
as  to  be  unable  to  ansv/er. 

Mr.  Merton  looked  on,  amused  at  their  wordy  con- 
flicts; he  knew  that  nothing  does  a  boj"-  so  much  good 
and  so  softens  his  manner  as  friendly  intercourse  with  a 
well-read  girl  of  about  his  own  age,  and  undoubtedly 
Alice  did  almost  as  much  toward  preparing  Jack's  man- 
ner for  his  future  career  as  her  father  had  done  toward 
preparing  his  mind. 

As  time  went  on  Jack  often  met  INIr.  Morton's  col- 
leagues, and  other  gentlemen  who  came  in  in  the  evening. 
He  was  always  introduced  as  "my  young  friend,  Simp- 
son," with  the  aside,  "a  remai'kably  clever  young  fel- 
low," and  most  of  those  who  met  him  supposed  him  to 
be  a  pupil  of  the  professor's. 

Mr.  Merton  had,  within  a  few  months  of  his  arrival  at 
Birmingham,  five  or  six  young  men  to  prepare  for  Cam- 
bridge. None  of  them  resided  in  the  house,  but  after 
Jack  had  become  thoroughly  accustomed  to  the  position, 
Mr.  Merton  invited  them,  as  well  as  a  party  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  to  the  house  on  one  of  Jack's  Saturday 
evenings. 

Jack,  upon  hearing  that  a  number  of  friends  were  com- 
ing in  the  evening,  made  an  excuse  to  go  into  the  town, 
and  took  his  black  bag  with  him. 


FACma  DEATH.  137 

Alice  bad  already  wondered  over  the  matter. 

"They  will  all  be  in  dress,  papa.  Jack  will  feel  awk- 
ward among  them." 

"He  is  only  eighteen,  my  dear,  and  it  will  not  matter 
his  not  being  in  evening  dress.  Jack  will  not  feel 
awkward." 

Alice,  was,  however,  very  pleased  as  well  as  surprised 
when,  upon  coming  down  dressed  into  the  drawing-room, 
she  found  him  in  full  evening  dress  chatting  quietly  with 
her  father  and  two  newly  arrived  guests.  Jack  would 
not  have  been  awkward,  but  he  would  certainly  have  been 
uncomfortable  had  he  not  been  dressed  as  were  the 
others,  for  of  all  things  he  hated  being  different  to  other 
people. 

He  looked  at  Alice  in  a  pretty  pink  muslin  dress  of 
fashionable  make  with  a  surprise  as  great  as  that  with 
which  she  had  glanced  at  him,  for  he  had  never  befora 
seen  a  lady  in  full  evening  dress. 

Presently  he  said  to  her  quietly,  "I  know  I  never  say 
the  right  thing,  Miss  Merton,  and  I  dare  say  it  is  quita 
wrong  for  me  to  express  any  personal  opinions,  but  you 
do  look " 

"No,  Jack;  that  is  quite  the  wrong  thing  to  sa.v. 
You  may  say.  Miss  Merton,  your  dress  is  a  most  becom- 
ing one,  although  even  that  you  could  not  be  allowed  to 
say  except  to  some  one  with  whom  you  are  very  intimate. 
There  are  as  many  various  shades  of  compliment  as  there 
are  of  intimacy.  A  brother  may  say  to  a  sister,  'You 
look  stunning  to-night' — that  is  a  very  slang  word.  Jack 
— and  she  will  like  it.  A  stranger  or  a  new  acquaint- 
ance may  not  say  a  word  which  would  show  that  he 
observes  a  lady  is  not  attired  in  a  black  walking-dress." 

"And  what  is  the  exact  degree  of  intimacy  in  which 
one  may  say  as  you  denoted,  'Miss  Merton,  your  dress  is 
a  most  becoming  one?'  " 


J28  FACING  DEATH. 

"I  should  say,"  the  girl  said  gravely,  "it  might  ba 
used  by  a  cousin  or  by  an  old  gentleman,  a  friend  of  the 
family." 

Then  with  a  laugh  she  went  off  to  receive  the  guests, 
now  beginning  to  arrive  in  earnest. 

After  this  Mr.  Merton  made  a  point  of  having  an  "at 
home"  every  fourth  Saturday,  and  these  soon  became 
known  as  among  the  most  pleasant  and  sociable  gather- 
ings in  the  literary  and  scientific  world  of  Birmingham. 

So  young  Jack  Simpson  led  a  dual  life,  spending 
twenty-six  days  of  each  month  as  a  pit  lad,  speaking  a 
dialect  nearly  as  broad  as  that  of  his  fellows,  and  two  as 
a  quiet  and  unobtrusive  young  student  in  the  pleasant 
home  of  Mr.  Merton. 

Before  a  year  had  passed  the  one  life  seemed  as  natural 
to  him  as  the  other.  Even  with  his  frier  ds  he  kept  them 
separate,  seldom  speaking  of  Stokebridge  when  at  Birm- 
ingham, save  to  answer  Mr.  Merton 's  questions  as  to  old 
pupils ;  and  giving  accounts,  which  to  Nelly  Hardy 
appeared  ridiculously  meager,  of  his  Birmingham  experi- 
ence to  his  friends  at  home. 

This  was  not  from  any  desire  to  be  reticent,  but  simply 
because  the  details  appeared  to  him  to  be  altogether  un- 
interesting to  his  friends. 

"You  need  not  trouble  to  tell  me  any  more,  Jack," 
Nelly  Hardy  said  indignantly.  "I  know  it  all  b^' 
heart.  You  worked  three  hours  with  Mr.  Merton ;  din- 
ner at  six;  some  people  came  at  eight,  no  one  in  particu- 
lar; they  talked,  and  there  was  some  playing  on  the 
piano ;  they  went  away  at  twelve.  Next  morning  after 
breakfast  you  went  to  church,  had  dinner  at  two,  took  a 
walk  afterward,  had  tea  at  half-past  six,  supper  at  nine, 
then  to  bed.  I  won't  ask  you  any  more  questions,  Jack; 
if  anything  out  of  the  way  takes  place  you  will  tell  me, 
310  doubt." 


VAOINQ  BEATS.  ^9 


CHAPTER    XVn. 

THE  DOG  FIGHT. 

Saturday  afternoon  walks,  when  there  were  no  special 
games  on  hand,  became  an  institution  among  what  may- 
be called  Jack  Simpson's  set  at  Stokebridge.  The  young 
fellows  had  followed  his  lead  with  all  seriousness,  and  a 
stranger  passing  would  have  been  astonislied  at  the  talk, 
so  grave  and  serious  was  it.  In  collierj-  villages,  as  at 
school,  the  lad  who  is  alike  the  head  of  the  school  and 
the  champion  at  all  games  is  looked  up  to  and  admired 
and  imitated,  and  his  power  for  good  or  for  evil  is  almost 
unlimited  among  his  fellows.  Thus  the  Saturday  after- 
noon walks  became  supplements  to  the  eveuing  classes, 
and  questions  of  all  kinds  were  propounded  to  Jack, 
whose  attainments  they  regarded  as  prodigious. 

On  such  an  afternoon,  as  Jack  was  giving  his  friends  a 
brief  sketch  of  the  sun  and  its  satellites,  and  of  the  won- 
ders of  the  telescope,  they  heard  bursts  of  applause  by 
many  voices,  and  a  low,  deep  growling  of  dogs. 

"It  is  a  dog  fight,"  one  of  the  lads  exclaimed. 

"It  is  a  brutal  sport,"  Jack  said.  "Let  us  go  another 
way. ' ' 

One  of  the  young  fellows  had,  however,  climbed  a  gate 
to  see  what  was  going  on  beyond  the  hedge. 

"Jack,"  he  exclaimed,  "there  is  Bill  Haden  fighting 
his  old  bitch  Flora  against  Tom  Walker's  Jess,  and  I 
think  the  pup  is  a-killing  the  old  dorg. " 


130  FAGUTG  DEATH. 

"With  a  bound  Jack  Simpson  sprang  into  the  field, 
"where  some  twenty  or  thirty  men  were  standing  looking 
at  a  dog  fight.  One  dog  had  got  the  other  down  and 
was  evidently  killing  it. 

"Throw  up  the  sponge.  Bill,"  the  miners  shouted. 
'''The  old  dorg's  no  good  agin  the  purp. " 

Jack  dashed  into  the  ring,  with  a  kick  he  sent  the 
young  dog  flying  across  the  ring,  and  picked  up  Flora, 
who,  game  to  the  last,  struggled  to  get  at  her  foe. 

A  burst  of  indignation  and  anger  broke  from  the  men. 

"Let  un.be."  "Put  her  down."  "Dang  thee,  how 
dare'st  meddle  here?"  "I'll  knock  thee  head  off,"  and 
other  shouts  sounded  loudly  and  threateningly. 

"For  shame!"  Jack  said  indignantly.  "Be  ye  men! 
For  shame,  Bill  Haden,  to  match  thy  old  dog,  twelve 
year  old,  wi'  a  young  un.  She's  been  a  good  dorg,  and 
has  brought  thee  many  a  ten-pun  note.  If  be 'est  tired 
of  her,  gi'  her  poison,  but  I  woan't  stand  by  and  see  her 
mangled." 

"How  dare  'ee  kick  my  dorg?"  a  miner  said,  coming 
angrily  forward;  "how  dare  'ee  come  here  and  hinder 
eport?" 

"Sport!"  Jack  said  indignantly,  "there  be  no  sport  in 
it.     It  is  brutal  cruelty. ' ' 

"The  match  be  got  to  be  fought  out, "  another  said, 
*'unless  Bill  Haden  throws  up  the  sponge  for  his  dog." 

"Come,"  Tom  Walker  said,  putting  his  hand  on 
Jack's  shoulder,  "get  out  o'  this;  if  it  warn 't  for  Bill 
Haden  I'd  knock  thee  head  off.  "We  be  coom  to  see 
spoort,  and  we  mean  to  see  it." 

"Spoort!"  Jack  said  passionately.  "If  it's  spoort 
thee  want'st  I'll  give  it  thee.  Flora  shan't  go  into  the 
ring  agin,  but  oi  ull.  I'll  fight  the  best  man  among  ye, 
be  he  which  he  will. " 


FACma  DEATH.  131 

A  chorus  of  wonder  broko  from  the  colliers. 

"Then  thou'st  got  to  fight  me,"  Tom  Walker  said. 
**I  b'liev',"  he  went  on,  looking  round,  "there  bean 't  no 
man  here  ul  question  that,  Thou'st  wanted  a  lathering 
for  soom  time.  Jack  Simpson,  wi'  thy  larning  and  thy 
ways,  and  I'm  not  sorry  to  be  the  man  to  gi'  it  thee." 

"No,  no,"  Bill  Haden  said,  and  the  men  round  for  the 
most  part  echoed  his  words.  "Taint  fair  for  thee  to  take 
t'  lad  at  his  word.  He  be  roight.  I  hadn't  ought  to  ha' 
matched  Flora  no  more.  She  ha'  been  a  good  bitch  in 
her  time,  but  she  be  past  it,  and  I'll  own  up  that  thy 
pup  ha'  beaten  her,  and  pay  thee  the  two  pounds  I  lay  on 
her,  if  'ee'll  let  this  matter  be." 

"Noa,"  Tom  Walker  said,  "the  young  'un  ha'  chal- 
lenged the  best  man  here,  and  I  be  a-going  to  lick  him 
if  he  doan't  draw  back." 

"I  shall  not  draw  back,"  Jack  said,  divesting  himself 
of  his  coat,  waistcoat,  and  shirt.  "Flora  got  licked  a' 
cause  she  was  too  old,  maybe  I'll  be  licked  a'cause  I  be 
too  young;  but  she  made  a  good  f eight,  and  so '11  oi. 
No,  dad,  I  won't  ha'  you  to  back  me.  Harry  here  shall 
do  that." 

The  ring  was  formed  again.  The  lads  stood  on  one 
Bide,  the  men  on  the  other.  It  was  understood  now  that 
there  was  to  be  a  fight,  and  no  one  had  another  word  to 
say. 

"I'll  lay  a  fi'-pound  note  to  a  shilling  on  the  old  un," 
a  miner  said. 

"I'll  take  'ee,"  Bill  Haden  answered.  "It  hain't  a 
great  risk  to  run,  and  Jack  is  as  game  as  Flora." 

Several  other  bets  were  made  at  similar  odds,  the  lads, 
although  they  deemed  the  conflict  hopeless,  yet  support- 
ing their  champion. 

Tom  Walker  stood  but  little  taller  than  Jack,  who  was 


132  FACING  DEATH. 

about  five  feet  six,  and  would  probaby  grow  two  inches 
more;  but  he  was  three  stone  heavier.  Jack  being  a 
pound  or  two  only  over  ten,  while  the  pitman  reached 
thirteen.  The  latter  was  the  acknowledged  champion  of 
the  Vaughan  pits,  as  Jack  was  incontestably  the 
leader  among  the  lads.  The  disproportion  in  weight 
and  muscle  was  enormous;  but  Jack  had  not  a  spare 
ounce  of  flesh  on  his  bones,  while  the  pitman  was  fleshy 
and  out  of  condition. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  give  the  details  of  the  fight, 
which  lasted  over  an  hour.  In  the  earlier  portion  Jack 
was  knocked  down  again  and  again,  and  was  several 
times  barely  able  to  come  up  to  the  call  of  time;  but  his 
bidldog  strain,  as  he  called  it,  gradually  told,  while 
intemperate  habits  and  want  of  condition  did  so  as  surely 
upon  his  opponent. 

The  derisive  shouts  with  which  the  men  had  hailed 
every  knock-down  blow  early  in  the  fight  soon  subsided, 
and  exclamations  of  admiration  at  the  pluck  with  which 
Jack,  reeling  and  confused,  came  up  time  after  time  took 
their  place. 

"It  be  a  foight  arter  all,"  one  of  them  said  at  the  end 
of  the  first  ten  minutes.  "I  wouldn't  lay  more  nor  ten 
to  one  now." 

"I'll  take  as  many  tens  to  one  as  any  o'  ye  like  to  lay," 
Bill  Haden  said,  but  no  one  cared  to  lay  even  these  odds. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  the  betting  was  only  two  to 
one.  Jack,  who  had  always  "given  his  head,"  that  is, 
had  always  ducked  so  as  to  receive  the  blows  on  the  top 
of  his  head,  where  they  were  supposed  to  do  less  harm, 
was  as  strong  as  he  was  after  the  first  five  minutes.  Tom 
"Walker  was  panting  with  fatigue,  wild  and  furious  at  his 
•want  of  success  over  an  adversary  he  had  despised. 

The  cheers  of  the  lads,  silent  at  first,  rose  louder  with 


Facing  D» 


Jack  is  Victorious.— Page 


FACING  DEATH.  1S3 

er.cli  round,  and  cnlrainated  in  a  yell  of  triumph  wliGn, 
r;c  tliG  end  of  fifty-five  minutes,  Tom  Walker,  Laving  for 
the  third  time  in  succession  been  knocked  down,  was 
absolutely  unable  to  rise  at  the  call  of  "time"  to  renew 
the  fight. 

Never  had  an  event  created  such  a  sensation  in  Stoke- 
bridge.  At  first  the  news  was  received  with  absolute 
incredulity,  but  when  it  became  thoroughly  understood 
that  Bill  Haden's  boy.  Jack  Simpson,  had  licked  Tom 
"Walker,  the  wonder  knew  no  bounds.  So  struck  were 
some  of  the  men  with  Jack's  courage  and  endurance  that 
the  offer  was  made  to  him  that,  if  he  liked  to  go  to  Birm- 
ingham  and  put  himself  under  that  noted  pugilist  tho 
"Chicken,"  his  expenses  would  be  paid,  and  fifty 
pounds  be  forthcoming  for  his  first  match.  Jack,  know- 
ing that  this  offer  was  made  in  good  faith  and  with  good 
intentions,  and  was  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of 
mining  villages,  declined  it  courteously  and  thankfully, 
but  firmly,  to  the  surprise  and  disappointment  of  his 
would-be  backers,  who  had  flattered  themselves  that 
Stokebridge  was  going  to  produce  a  champion  middle- 
weight. 

He  had  not  come  unscathed  from  the  fight,  for  it 
proved  that  one  of  his  ribs  had  been  broken  by  a  heavy 
body  hit;  and  he  was  for  some  weeks  in  the  hands  of  the 
doctor,  and  was  longer  still  before  he  could  again  take 
his  place  in  the  pit. 

Bill  Haden's  pride  in  him  was  unbounded,  and  during 
his  illness  poor  old  Flora,  who  seemed  to  recognize  in 
him  her  champion,  lay  on  his  bed  with  her  black  muzzle 
in  the  hand  not  occupied  with  a  book. 

The  victorj'  which  Jack  had  won  gave  the  finishing 
stroke  to  his  popularity  and  influence  among  his  com- 
panions, and   silenced  definitely  and  forever  the  sneers 


134  FACING  DEATH. 

of  the  minority  wlio  Lad  held  oufc  against  the  chang3 
which  he  had  brought  about.  He  himself  felt  no  elation 
at  his  victory,  and  objected  to  the  subject  even  being 
alluded  to. 

"It  was  just  a  question  of  wind  and  last,"  he  said. 
•''I  was  nigh  being  done  for  at  the  end  o'  the  first  three 
rounds.  I  just  manged  to  hold  on,  and  then  it  was 
a  certainty.  If  Tom  Walker  had  been  in  condition  ha 
would  have  finished  me  in  ten  minutes.  If  he  had  coma 
on  working  as  a  getter,  I  should  ha'  been  nowhere;  he'a 
a  weigher  now  and  makes  fat,  and  his  muscles  are  flabby. 
The  best  dorg  can't  fight  when  he's  out  o'  condition." 

But  in  spite  of  that  the  lads  knew  that  it  was  only 
bulldog  courage  that  had  enabled  Jack  to  hold  out  over 
those  bad  ten  minutes. 

As  for  Jane  Haden,  her  reproaches  to  her  husband  for 
in  the  first  place  matching  Flora  against  a  young  dog, 
and  in  the  second  for  allowing  Jack  to  fight  so  noted  a 
man  as  Tom  Walker,  were  so  fierce  and  vehement  that 
until  Jack  was  able  to  leave  his  bed  and  take  his  place  by 
the  fire.  Bill  was  but  little  at  home,  spending  all  his 
time,  even  at  meals,  in  that  place  of  refuge  from  his 
Tyifs's  tongue — "The  Chequers." 


FACING  DEATS»  135 


CH AFTER    XVIIL 


STOKilBBIDGE  FEAST. 


Even  among  the  mining  villages  of  the  Black  Oountry 
Stokebridge  had  a  reputation  for  roughness;  and  hard- 
ened topers  of  the  place  would  boast  that  in  no  village  in 
the  county  was  there  so  much  beer  drunk  per  head. 
Stokebridge  feast  was  frequented  by  the  dwellers  of  the 
mining  villages  for  miles  round,  and  the  place  was  for 
the  day  a  scene  of  disgraceful  drunkenness  and  riot. 
Crowds  of  young  men  and  women  came  in,  the  public 
houses  were  crowded,  there  was  a  shouting  of  songs  and 
a  scraping  of  fiddles  from  each  taproom,  and  dancing 
went  on  in  temporary  booths. 

One  of  these  feasts  had  taken  place  just  after  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  night  classes,  and  had  been  marked  by 
even  greater  drunkenness  and  more  riotous  scenes  than 
usual.  For  years  the  vicar  in  the  church  and  the  dis- 
senting ministers  in  their  meeting-houses  had  preached 
in  vain  against  the  evil.  Their  congregations  were  small, 
and  in  this  respect  their  words  fell  upon  ears  closed  to 
exhortation.  During  the  year  v/hich  had  elapsed,  how- 
ever, there  was  a  perceptible  change  in  Stokebridge,  a 
change  from  which  those  interested  in  it  hoped  for  great 
results. 

The  Bulldogs  and  their  kindred  societies  had  set  the 
fashion,  and  the  demeanor  and  bearing  of  the  young  men 


136  FACING  DEATH. 

and  boys  was  quiet  and  orderly.  In  every  match  which 
fchey  had  played  at  rounders,  football,  and  quoits  with 
the  surrounding  villages  Stokebridge  had  won  easily,  and 
never  were  the  games  entered  into  with  more  zest  than 
now. 

The  absence  of  bad  language  in  the  streets  was  surpris- 
ing. The  habit  of  restraint  upon  the  tongue  acquired  in 
the  clubrooms  had  spread,  and  two  months  after  Jack's 
first  proposal  had  been  so  coldly  received,  the  proposi- 
tion to  extend  the  fines  to  swearing  outside  the  walls  as 
well  as  in  was  unanimously  agreed  to.  The  change  in 
the  demeanor  of  the  girls  was  even  greater.  Beside  the 
influence  of  Mrs.  Dodgson  and  her  assistant,  aided  per- 
haps by  the  desire  to  stand  well  in  the  eyes  of  lads  of 
the  place,  their  boisterous  habits  had  been  toned  down, 
dark  neatly-made  dresses  took  the  place  of  bright-colored 
and  flimsy  ones;  hair,  faces,  and  hands  showed  more 
care  and  self-respect. 

The  example  of  the  young  people  had  not  been  with- 
out its  influence  upon  the  elders.  Not  indeed  upon  the 
regular  drinking  set,  but  upon  those  who  only  occasion- 
ally gave  way.  The  tidier  and  more  comfortable  homes, 
the  better-cooked  meals,  all  had  their  effect ;  and  all  but 
brutalized  men  shrank  from  becoming  objects  of  shame 
to  their  children.  As  to  the  women  of  Stokebridge  they 
were  for  the  most  part  delighted  with  the  change.  Scr29 
indeed  grumbled  at  the  new-fangled  ways,  and  com- 
plained that  their  daughters  were  getting  above  thein, 
but  as  the  lesson  taught  in  the  night  classes  was  that  the 
first  duty  of  ^a  girl  or  woman  was  to  make  her  home 
bright  and  happy,  to  bear  patiently  the  tempers  of  others, 
to  be  a  peacemaker  and  a  help,  to  bear  with  children, 
and  to  respect  elders,  even  the  grumblers  gave  way  a^ 
alst. 


FACING  DEATH.  13? 

The  very  appoaranco  of  the  villago  was  changing. 
Pots  of  bright  flowers  stood  in  the  windows,  creepers  and 
roses  climbed  over  the  walls,  patches  full  of  straggling 
weeds  were  now  well-kept  gardens ;  in  fact,  as  Mr.  Brook 
said  one  day  to  the  vicar,  one  would  hardly  know  the 
place. 

"There  has  indeed  been  a  strange  movement  for  good," 
the  clergyman  said,  "and  I  cannot  take  any  share  of  it  to 
myself.  It  has  been  going  on  for  some  time  invisibly, 
and  the  night-schools  and  classes  for  girls  have  given  it 
an  extraordinary  impulse.  It  is  a  changed  place  alto- 
gether. I  am  sorry  that  the  feast  is  at  hand.  It  always 
does  an  immense  deal  of  mischief,  and  is  a  time  of  quar- 
rel, drunkenness,  and  license.  I  wish  that  something 
sould  be  done  to  counteract  its  influence." 

"So  do  I,"  Mr.  Brook  said.  "Can  you  advise  any- 
thing?" 

"I  cannot,"  the  vicar  said;  "but  I  will  put  on  my  hal 
and  walk  with  you  down  to  the  schoolhouse.  To  Dodg- 
son  and  his  wife  is  due  the  real  credit  of  the  change ; 
they  are  indefatigable,  and  their  influence  is  very  great. 
Let  us  put  the  question  to  them." 

The  schoolmaster  had  his  evening  class  in;  Mrs. 
Dodgson  had  ten  girls  working  and  reading  in  her  par- 
lor, as  she  invited  that  number  of  the  neatest  and  most 
quiet  of  her  pupils  to  tea  on  each  evening  that  her  hus- 
band was  engaged  with  his  night-school.  These  even- 
ings were  greatly  enjoyed  by  the  girls,  and  the  hope  of 
being  included  among  the  list  of  invited  had  done  much 
toward  producing  a  change  of  manners. 

It  was  a  fine  evening,  and  the  schoolmaster  and  his 
wife  joined  Mr.  Brook  out  of  doors,  and  apologizing  for 
the  room  being  full  asked  them  to  sit  down  in  the  rose- 
covered  arbor  at  the  -end  of  the  garden.  The  vicar  ex- 
plained the  object  of  the  visit. 


138  FACING  DEATH. 

*'My  wife  and  I  have  been  talking  the  matter  over,  Mr, 
Brook,"  the  schoolmaster  said,  "and  v?e  deplore  thesa 
feasts,  which  are  the  bane  of  the  place.  They  demoralize 
the  village;  all  sorts  of  good  resolutions  give  way  under 
temptation,  and  then  those  who  have  given  way  are 
ashamed  to  rejoin  their  better  companions.  It  cannot  be 
put  down,  I  suppose?" 

*'No,"  Mr.  Brook  said.  "It  is  held  in  a  field  belong- 
ing to  'The  Chequers,'  and  even  did  I  succeed  in  getting 
it  closed — which  of  course  would  be  out  of  the  question 
— they  would  find  some  other  site  for  the  booths." 

"Would  you  be  prepared  to  go  to  some  expense  to 
neutralize  the  bad  effect  of  this  feast,  Mr.  Brook?" 
"Certainly;  any  expense  in  reason." 
"What  I  was  thinking,  sir,  is  that  if  upon  the  after- 
noon of  the  feast  j^ou  could  give  a/ete  in  your  grounds, 
beginning  with  say  a  cricket-match,  followed  by  a  tea, 
with  conjuring  or  some  such  amusement  afterward — for  I 
do  not  think  that  they  would  care  for  dancing — winding 
up  with  sandwiches  and  cakes,  and  would  invite  the 
girls  of  my  wife's  sewing-classes  with  any  other  girls 
they  may  choose  to  bring  with  them,  and  the  lads  of  my 
evening  class,  with  similar  permission  to  bring  friends, 
we  should  keep  all  those  who  are  really  the  moving 
spirits  of  the  improvement  which  has  taken  place  here 
out  of  reach  of  temptation. " 

"Your  idea  is  excellent,"  Mr.  Brook  said.  "I  will  get 
the  band  of  the  regiment  at  Birmingham  over,  and  we 
will  wind  up  with  a  display  of  fireworks,  and  any  other 
attraction  which,  after  thinking  the  matter  over,  you  can 
suggest,  shall  be  adopted.  I  have  greatly  at  heart  the 
interests  of  my  pitmen,  and  the  fact  that  last  year  they 
were  led  away  to  play  me  a  scurvy  trick  is  all  forgotten 
now.     A  good  work  has  been  set  on  foot  here,  and  if  wa 


FACING  DEATH.  139 

can  foster  it  and  keep  it  going,  Stokebridge  will  in  future 
years  be  a  very  different  place  to  what  it  has  been. " 

Mr.  Dodgson  consulted  Jack  Simpson  the  next  day  aa 
to  the  amusements  likely  to  be  most  popular;  but  Jack 
suggested  that  Fred  Wood  and  Bill  Cummings  should  be 
called  into  consultation,  for,  as  he  said,  he  knew  nothing 
of  girls'  ways,  and  his  opinions  were  worth  nothing. 
His  two  friends  were  sent  for  and  soon  arrived.  They 
agreed  that  a  cricket-match  would  be  the  greatest  attrac- 
tion, and  that  the  band  of  the  soldiers  would  delight  the 
girls.  It  was  arranged  that  a  challenge  should  be  sent 
to  Batterbury,  which  lay  thirteen  miles  off,  and  would 
therefore  know  nothing  of  the  feast.  The  Stokebridge 
team  had  visited  them  the  summer  before  and  beaten 
them,  therefore  they  would  no  doubt  come  to  Stoke- 
bridge. They  thought  that  a  good  conjuror  would  be 
an  immense  attraction,  as  such  a  thing  had  never  been 
seen  in  Stokebridge,  and  that  the  fireworks  would  be  a 
splendid  wind-up.  Mr.  Brook  had  proposed  that  a  dinner 
iox  the  contending  cricket  teams  should  be  served  in  a 
marquee,  but  to  this  the  lads  objected,  as  not  only  would 
the  girls  be  left  out,  but  also  the  lads  not  engaged  in  the 
match.  It  would  be  better,  they  thought,  for  there  to 
be  a  table  with  sandwiches,  buns,  lemonade,  and  tea,  from 
which  all  could  help  themselves. 

The  arrangements  were  all  made  privately,  as  it  was 
possible  that  the  publicans  might,  were  they  aware  of 
the  intended  counter  attraction,  change  the  day  of  the 
feast,  although  this  was  unlikely,  seeing  that  it  had  from 
time  immemorial  taken  place  on  the  3d  of  September  ex- 
cept only  when  that  day  fell  on  a  Sunday;  still  it  was 
better  to  run  no  risk.  A  meeting  of  the  Bulldogs  was 
called  for  the  27th  of  August,  and  at  this  Jack  announced 
the  invitation  which  had  been  received  from  Mr.  Brook. 


140  FACING  DEATH. 

A  few  were  inclined  to  demur  at  giving  up  the  jollity  c^ 
the  feast  but  by  this  time  the  majority  of  the  lads  had 
gone  heart  and  soul  into  the  movement  for  improvement. 
The  progress  made  had  already  been  so  great,  the  di^- 
culties  at  first  met  had  been  so  easily  overcome,  that  tbej 
were  eager  to  carry  on  the  work.  One  or  two  of  thosa 
most  doubtful  as  to  their  own  resolution  were  the  mont 
ready  to  accept  the  invitation  of  their  employer,  for  i'c 
was  morally  certain  that  everyone  would  be  drunli  on 
the  night  of  the  feast,  and  it  was  an  inexorable  law  of  the 
Bulldogs  that  any  of  the  members  getting  drunk  were 
expelled  from  that  body.  The  invitation  was  at  last 
accepted  without  a  dissenting  voice,  the  challenge  to 
Batterbury  written,  and  then  the  members  went  off  to 
the  associated  clubs  of  which  they  were  members  to 
obtain  the  adhesion  of  these  also  to  the  fete  at  Mr. 
Brook's.  Mrs.  Dodgson  had  harder  work  with  the  sew- 
ing-class. The  attraction  of  the  dancing  and  display  of 
finery  at  the  feast  was  greater  to  many  of  the  girls  than 
to  the  boys.  Many  eagerly  accepted  the  invitation;  but 
it  was  not  until  Mr.  Dodgson  came  in  late  in  the  evening 
and  announced  in  an  audible  tone  to  his  wife  that  he  was 
glad  to  say  that  the  whole  of  the  young  fellows  of  the 
night-school  had  accepted  the  invitation  that  the  girls 
all  gave  way  and  agreed  to  go  to  ihefite. 

Accordingly  on  the  3d  of  September,  just  as  the  people 
from  the  pit  villages  round  were  flocking  in  to  Stol;e- 
bridge,  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  the  young  people  of  tiiat 
place,  with  a  score  or  two  of  young  mai-ried  couples  and 
steady  men  and  women,  set  out  in  their  Sunday  suits  for 
Mr.  Brook's. 

It  was  a  glorious  day.  The  cricket-match  was  a  great 
success,  the  military  band  was  delightful,  and  Mr.  Brook 
bad  placed  it  on  the  lawn,  so  that  those  of  the  young 


FACING  DEATH.  VLl 

people  who  chose  could  dance  to  the  inspiring  strains. 
Piles  of  sandwiches  disappoarec!  during  the  afternoon, 
B,nd  the  tea,  coffee,  and  lemonade  were  pronounced  excel- 
lent. There  was,  too,  a  plentiful  supply  of  beer  for  such 
of  the  lads  as  preferred  it ;  as  Mr.  Brook  thought  that  it 
would  look  like  a  want  of  confidence  in  his  visitors  did 
he  not  provide  them  with  beer. 

Batterbury  was  beaten  soundly ;  and  when  it  was  dark 
the  pai'ty  assembled  in  a  large  marquee*  There  a  con- 
jurer first  performed,  and  after  giving  all  the  usual  won- 
ders, produced  from  an  inexhaustible  *box  such  pretty 
presents  in  the  way  of  well-furnished  work-bags  and 
ether  useful  articles  for  the  girls  that  these  were  de- 
lighted. But  the  surprise  of  the  evening  was  yet  to 
come.  It  was  not  nine  o'clock  when  the  conjurer  fin- 
ished, and  Mr.  Dodgson  was  thinking  anxiously  that  the 
party  would  be  back  in  Stokebridge  long  before  the  feast 
was  over.  Suddenly  a  great  pair  of  curtains  across  the 
end  of  the  tent  drew  aside  and  a  regular  stage  was  seen. 
Mr.  Brook  had  obtained  the  services  of  five  or  six  actors 
and  actresses  from  the  Birmingham  theater,  together 
with  scenery  and  all  accessories;  and  for  two  hours  and 
a  half  the  audience  was  kept  in  a  roar  of  laughter  by 
some  well-acted  farces. 

"When  the  curtain  fell  at  last  Mr.  Brook  himself  came 
in  front  of  it.  So  long  and  hearty  was  the  cheering  that 
it  was  a  long  time  before  he  could  obtain  a  hearing.  At 
last  silence  was  restored. 

"I  am  very  glad,  my  friends,"  he  said,  "that  you  have 
had  a  happy  afternoon  and  evening,  and  I  hope  that  an- 
other year  I  shall  see  j^ou  all  here  again.  I  should  like 
to  say  a  few  words  before  we  separate.  You  young  men, 
lads  and  lasses,  will  in  a  few  years  have  a  paramount  in- 
fluence in  Stokebridge;  upon  you  it  depends  whether 


142  FACING  DEATB. 

that  place  is  to  be,  as  it  used  to  be,  like  other  colliery 
villages  in  Staffordshire,  or  to  be  a  place  inhabited  by- 
decent  and  civilized  people.  I  am  delighted  to  observe 
that  a  great  change  has  lately  come  over  it,  due  in  a 
great  measure  to  your  good  and  kind  friends  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Dodgson,  who  have  devoted  their  whole  time  and 
efforts  to  your  welfare."  The  cheering  at  this  point  was 
as  great  as  that  which  had  greeted  Mr.  Brook  himself, 
but  was  even  surpassed  by  that  which  burst  out  when  a 
young  fellow  shouted  out,  "and  Jack  Simpson."  Dur- 
ing this  Jack  Simpson  savagely  made  his  way  out  of  the 
tent,  and  remained  outside,  muttering  threats  about 
punching  heads,  till  the  proceedings  were  over.  "And 
Jack  Simpson,"  Mr.  Brook  went  on,  smiling  after  the 
cheering  had  subsided.  "I  feel  sure  that  the  improvement 
will  be  maintained.  When  you  see  the  comfort  of  homes 
in  which  the  wives  are  cleanly,  tidy,  and  intelligent,  able 
to  make  the  dresses  of  themselves  and  their  children,  and 
to  serve  their  husbands  with  decently  cooked  food ;  and 
in  which  the  husbands  spend  their  evenings  and  their 
wages  at  home,  treating  their  wives  as  rational  beings, 
reading  aloud,  or  engaged  in  cheerful  conversation,  and 
compare  their  homes  with  those  of  the  drunkard  and  the 
slattern,  it  would  seem  impossible  for  any  reasonable 
human  being  to  hesitate  in  his  or  her  choice  between 
them.  It  is  in  your  power,  my  friends,  each  and  all, 
which  of  these  homes  shall  be  yours.  I  have  thought 
that  some  active  amusement  is  necessary,  and  have 
arranged,  after  consultation  with  your  vicar  and  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dodgson,  that  a  choir-master  from  Birm- 
ingham shall  come  over  twice  a  week,  to  train  such  of 
you  as  may  wish  and  may  have  voices,  in  choir-singing. 
As  the  lads  of  Stokebridge  can  beat  those  of  any  of  the 
surrounding  villages  at  cricket,  bo  I  hope  in  time  the 


FACING  DEATH.  143 

choir  of  Lha  Lids  and  Insass  cf  this  rlace  will  be  able  to 
hold  its  own  against  any  other."  Again  the  speaker  had 
to  pause,  for  the  cheering  was  enthusiastic.  "And  now, 
good-night ;  and  may  I  say  that  I  hope  and  trust  that 
when  the  fireworks,  which  will  now  be  displayed,  are 
over,  you  will  all  go  home  and  straight  to  bed,  without 
being  tempted  to  join  ia  the  doings  at  the  feast.  If  so, 
it  will  be  a  satisfaction  to  me  to  think  that  for  the  first 
time  since  the  feast  was  first  inaugurated,  neither  lad 
nor  lass  of  Stokebridge  wi!l  have  cause  to  look  back  upon 
iixe  fsast-day  with  regrtt  or  stame.""' 


144  WAGING  DEAW 


CHAPTER    XIS. 

THE  GREAT  RIOT. 

Stokebridge  feast  liad  not  gone  ofif  with  its  usual  spirit. 
The  number  of  young  pitmen  and  lads  from  the  sur- 
rounding villages  were  as  large  as  ever,  and  there  was  no 
lack  of  lasses  in  gay  bonnets  and  bright  dresses.  The 
fact,  however,  that  almost  the  whole  of  the  lads  and  girls 
of  Stokebridge  between  the  ages  of  fifteen  and  eighteen 
had  left  th^  village  and  gone  to  a  rival  fete  elsewhere 
cast  a  damper  on  the  proceedings.  There  T>'ere  plenty 
of  young  women  and  young  men  in  Stokebridge  who 
were  as  ready  as  ever  to  dance  and  to  drink,  and  who 
were,  perhaps,  even  gaudier  in  attire  and  more  boisterous 
in  manner  than  usual,  as  a  protest  against  the  recession 
of  their  juniors;  for  Stokebridge  was  divided  into  two 
very  hostile  camps,  and,  as  was  perhaps  not  unnatural, 
those  over  the  age  of  the  girls  and  lads  at  the  night- 
schools  resented  the  changes  which  had  been  made,  and 
rebelled  against  the,  as  they  asserted,  airs  of  superior- 
ity of  younger  sisters  and  brothers. 

In  some  cases  no  doubt  there  was  ground  for  the  feel- 
ing. The  girls  and  lads,  eager  to  introduce  the  new 
lessons  of  order  and  neatness  which  they  had  learned, 
maj'  have  gone  too  fast  and  acted  with  too  much  zeal, 
although  their  teacher  had  specially  warned  them  against 
so  doing.  Hence  the  feeling  of  hostility  to  the  mova- 
ment  was  strong  among  a  small  section  of  Stokebridge, 


PACING  DEATH.  14^ 

and  the  feeling  was  heightened  by  the  secession  in  a 
body  of  the  young  people  from  the  feast. 

As  the  day  went  on  the  public-houses  were  as  full  as 
ever,  indeed  it  was  said  that  never  before  had  so  much 
liquor  been  consumed ;  the  fiddles  played  and  the  danc- 
ing and  boisterous  romping  went  on  as  usual,  but  there 
was  less  real  fun  and  enjoyment.  As  evening  came  on  the 
young  fellows  talked  together  in  angry  groups.  Whether 
the  proposal  emanated  from  some  of  the  Stokebridge  men 
or  from  the  visitors  from  other  villages  was  afterward  a 
matter  of  much  dispute,  but  it  gradually  became  whis- 
pered about  among  the  dancing  booths  and  public-houses 
that  there  was  an  intention  to  give  the  party  from 
Brook's  a  warm  reception  when  they  arrived.  Volleys  of 
mud  and  earth  were  prepared,  and  some  of  the  over- 
dressed young  women  tossed  their  heads  and  said  that  a 
spattering  with  mud  would  do  the  stuck-up  girls  no 
harm. 

The  older  pitmen,  who  would  have  certainly  opposed 
any  such  design  being  carried  out,  were  kept  in  igno- 
rance of  what  was  intended ;  the  greater  portion  were 
indeed  drunk  long  before  the  time  came  when  the  party 
would  be  returning  from  the  fete. 

At  a  quarter  before  twelve  Jane  Haden,  who  had  been 
sitting  quietly  at  home,  went  up  to  the  "Chequers"  to 
look  after  her  husband,  and  to  see  about  his  being 
brought  home  should  he  be  incapable  of  walking.  The 
music  was  still  playing  in  the  dancing  booths,  but  the 
dancing  was  kept  up  without  spirit,  for  a  number  of 
young  men  and  lads  were  gathered  outside.  As  she 
passed  she  caught  a  few  words  which  were  sufficient  to 
inform  her  of  what  was  going  on.  "Get  some  sticks 
oot  o'  hedges."  "Fill  your  pockets  oop  wi'  stones." 
"We'll  larn  'em  to  spoil  the  feast.". 


146  FACma  DEATH. 

Jane  saw  that  an  attack  was  going  to  be  made  uroa 
the  party  and  hesitated  for  a  moment  what  to  (xo.  Tha 
rockets  were  going  up  in  Mr.  Brook's  grounds,  and  she 
knew  she  had  a  few  minutes  yet.  First  she  ran  to  the 
house  of  James  Shepherd.  The  pitman,  who  was  a 
sturdy  man,  had  been  asleep  for  the  last  three  hours. 
She  knocked  at  the  door,  unlocked  it,  and  went  in. 

"Jim,"  she  called  in  a  loud  voice. 

"Ay,  what  be 't?"  said  a  sleepy  voice  upstaii's;  "be't 
thou,  Harry  and  Sally?" 

"No,  it  be  I,  Jane  Haden;  get  up  quickly,  Jim;  quick, 
man,  there  be  bad  doings,  and  thy  lad  and  lass  are  like 
to  have  their  heads  broke  if  no  worse." 

Alarmed  by  the  words  and  the  urgent  manner  of  hi3 
neighbor,  Jim  and  his  wife  slipped  on  a  few  clothes  and 
came  down.     Jane  at  once  told  them  what  she  had  heard. 

"There  be  between  two  and  three  hundred  of  'em," 
she  said,  "as  far  as  I  could  see  the  wust  lot  out  o'  Stoke- 
bridge,  and  a  lot  o'  roughs  from  t'other  villages.  Quick, 
Jim,  do  you  and  Ann  go  round  quick  to  the  houses  o* 
all  the  old  hands  who  ha'  kept  away  from  the  feast  or 
who  went  home  drunk  early,  they  may  ha'  slept  't  off  by 
this  and  get  'un  together.  Let  'em  take  pick-helves, 
and  if  there's  only  twenty  of  ye  and  ye  fall  upon  this 
crowd  ye'll  drive  'em.  If  ye  doan't  it  will  go  bad  wi* 
all  our  lads  and  lasses.  I'll  go  an'  warn  'em,  and  tell 
'em  to  stop  a  few  minutes  on  t'  road  to  give  'ee  time  to 
coom  up.  My  Jack  and  the  lads  will  foight,  no  fear  o' 
that,  but  they  can't  make  head  agin  so  many  armed  wi' 
sticks  and  stones  too;  but  if  ye  come  up  behind  and 
fall  on  'em  when  it  begins  ye'll  do,  even  though  they  ba 
stronger." 

Fully  awake  now  to  the  danger  which  threatened  taa 
young   people,  for  the  pitman  and  his  wife  knew  that 


FACING  DEA7S.  14? 

when  blows  were  eschanged  and  blood  heated  things 
would  go  much  further  than  was  at  first  intended,  they 
hurried  off  to  get  a  few  men  together,  while  Jane  Hadeia 
started  for  the  hall. 

Already  the  riotous  crowd  had  gone  on  and  she  had  to 
make  a  detour,  but  she  regained  the  road,  and  bursh 
breathless  and  panting  into  the  midst  of  the  throng  of 
young  people  coming  along  the  lane  chatting  gayly  of 
the  scenes  of  the  evening. 

"Stop,  stop!"  she  cried;  "don'o  go  a  foot  further — 
where  be  my  Jack?" 

"It's  Mrs.  Haden,"  Nelly  Hardy  said.  "Jack  it's 
your  mother." 

"What  is  it?"  Jack  said  in  astonishment.  "Anything 
wrong  wi'  dad?" 

"Stop!"  Mrs.  Haden  gasped  again;  "there's  three 
hundred  and  more  young  chaps  and  boys  wi'  sticks  and 
stones  joost  awaiting  on  this  side  t'  village,  awaiting  to 
pay  you  all  oot. ' ' 

Ejaculations  of  alarm  were  heard  all  round,  and  several 
of  the  girls  began  to  whimper. 

"Hush!"  Mr.  Dodgson  said,  coming  forward.  "Let 
all  keep  silence.  There  may  be  no  occasion  for  alarm; 
let  us  hear  all  about  it,  Mrs.  Haden." 

Mrs.  Haden  repeated  her  story,  and  said  that  Harry's 
father  and  mother  were  getting  a  body  of  pitmen  to  help 
them. 

"I  think,  Mr.  Dodgson,"  said  Jack,  "the  girls  had 
best  go  back  to  Mr.  Brook's  as  quickly  as  possible;  we 
will  come  and  fetch  them  when  it's  all  over." 

"I  think  so  too,"  said  Mr.  Dodgson,  "they  might  be 
injured  by  stones.  My  dear,  do  you  lead  the  girls  back 
to  Mr.  Brook's.  The  house  will  hardly  be  shut  up  yd, 
and  even  if   it  is    Mr.    Brook  will   gladly  receive  you. 


148  rAOiya  BEATB. 

Thor©  ia  g  aliance  of  any  of  the  ruffians  pursuing  them, 
do  you  think.  Jack,  when  they  find  they  have  only  us  to 
deal  with?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir.  If  three  or  four  of  us  were  to  put 
on  their  cloaks,  something  light  to  show  in  the  dark, 
they  will  think  the  girls  are  among  us. " 

"Quick!  here  they  come,"  Mr.  Dodgson  said,  "go 
back  silently,  girls — not  a  word." 

Two  or  three  cloaks  and  shawls  were  hastily  borrowed 
and  the  lads  then  turned  up  the  road,  where  the  sound 
of  suppressed  laughter  and  coarse  oaths  could  be  heard, 
while  the  young  women  went  oif  at  a  rapid  pace  toward 
the  hall. 

"There  are  four  of  the  clubs,  nigh  twenty  in  each," 
Jack  said;  "let  each  club  keep  together  and  go  right  at 
'em.     Stick  together  whatever  you  do." 

"I'll  take  my  place  by  you.  Jack,"  Mr.  Dodgson  said; 
"you  are  our  captain  now." 

Talking  in  a  careless  voice  the  party  went  forward. 
The  road  here  was  only  divided  from  the  fields  on  either 
side  by  a  newly-planted  hedge  of  a  foot  or  so  in  height. 
Jack  had  arranged  that  he,  with  the  few  married  pitmen, 
Mr.  Dodgson,  and  the  eight  Bulldogs  who  did  not  be- 
long to  the  other  associations,  should  hold  the  road;  that 
two  of  the  other  clubs  should  go  on  each  side,  fight  their 
way  as  far  as  they  could,  and  then  close  in  on  the  road  to 
take  the  assailants  there  on  both  flanks. 

The  spirit  of  association  did  wonders;  many  of  the 
lads  were  but  fourteen  or  fifteen,  yet  all  gathered  under 
their  respective  leaders  and  prepared  for  Avhat  they  felt 
would  be  a  desperate  struggle.  Presently  they  saw  a 
dark  mass  gathered  in  the  road. 

As  soon  as  the  light  shawls  were  seen  there  was  a  cry 
of  "Here  they  be,  give  it  'em  well,  lads;"  and  a  volley 


FACINQ  DEATH.  H-9 

of  what  were,  in  tfie  majority  of  oases,  clods  of  eartb,  but 
among  whicb  wero  many  stones,  was  poured  in.  With- 
out an  instant's  pause  the  party  attacked  separated,  two 
bands  leaped  into  the  field  on  either  side,  and  then  the 
whole  rushed  at  the  assailants.  No  such  charge  as  this 
had  been  anticipated.  The  cowardly  ruffians  had  ex- 
pected to  give  a  complete  surprise,  to  hear  the  shrieks 
of  the  girls,  and  perhaps  some  slight  resistance  from  a 
few  of  the  older  lads;  the  suddenness  of  this  attack 
astonished  them. 

In  an  instant  Jack  and  his  supporters  were  in  their 
midst,  and  the  fury  which  animated  them  at  this  cowardly 
attack,  and  the  unity  of  their  action,  bore  all  before 
them;  and  in  spite  of  their  sticks  the  leaders  of  the  as- 
sailants were  beaten  to  the  ground.  Then  the  sheer 
weight  of  the  mass  behind  stopped  the  advance  and  the 
conflict  became  a  general  one.  In  the  crowd  and  con- 
fusion it  was  difficult  to  distinguish  friend  from  foe,  and 
this  prevented  the  assailants  from  making  full  use  of 
their  stakes,  rails,  and  other  implements  with  which  they 
were  armed.  They  were,  however,  getting  the  best  of  it. 
Mr.  Dodgson  had  been  knocked  down  with  a  heavy  stake 
and  several  others  were  badly  hurt,  when  the  strong 
bands  in  the  field,  who  had  driven  back  the  scattered 
assailants  there,  fell  upon  the  flanks  of  the  main  body 
who  were  fighting  in  the  road. 

For  five  minutes  the  fight  was  a  desperate  one,  and 
then,  just  as  numbers  and  weapons  were  telling,  there 
was  a  shout  in  the  rear,  and  fifteen  pitmen,  headed  by 
Jim  Shepherd  and  armed  with  pick  handles,  as  formida- 
ble weapons  as  could  be  desired  in  the  hands  of  strong 
men,  fell  upon  the  rear  of  the  assailants.  Yells,  shouts, 
and  heavy  crashing  blows  told  the  tale  to  those  engaged 
in  front;  and  at  once  the  assailants  broke  and  scattered 
in  flight. 


15C  FACnm  DEATH. 

"Catch  'em  and  bring  'em  down,"  Jack  shouted; 
"they  shall  pay  for  this  night's  work." 

Such  of  the  lads  as  were  not  disabled  started  off,  and 
being  fleet  of  foot,  those  of  the  assailants  nearest  to  them 
had  little  chance  of  escape.  Two  or  three  lads  together 
sprang  upon  one  and  pulled  him  down,  and  so  when  the 
pursuit  ended  twenty-nine  of  the  assailants  had  fallen 
into  their  hands.  In  addition  to  this  a  score  of  them  lay 
or  sat  by  the  road  with  broken  heads  and  bones,  the 
work  of  the  pitmen's  weapons. 

Of  the  lads  the  greater  part  had  been  badly  knocked 
about  and  some  lay  insensible  in  the  road.  The  pris- 
oners were  brought  together,  five  of  the  pitmen  with 
twenty  of  the  lads  marched  with  those  able  to  walk  to 
the  village  where  they  shut  them  up  in  the  schoolroom. 
The  other  pitmen  remained  in  charge  of  the  wounded  of 
both  sides,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  were  sent  back  to 
Mr.  Brook's  to  fetch  the  women  and  girls.  Near  the 
house  they  met  Mr.  Brook,  accompanied  by  his  two 
men-servants  and  gardener,  armed  with  spades,  hurrying 
forward ;  and  he  expressed  his  delight  at  the  issue  of  the 
conflict,  but  shook  his  head  at  the  number  of  serious  in- 
juries on  both  sides. 

In  a  shed  near  the  house  w^ere  a  number  of  hurdles, 
and  twenty  of  these  were  at  once  sent  forward  with  the 
men  to  carry  those  unable  to  walk  into  the  village. 

Mrs.  Dodgson  turned  pale  as  her  husband,  his  face 
covered  with  blood,  entered  the  dining-room,  where, 
huddled  together,  the  frightened  girls  were  standing; 
lili's.  Dodgson,  aided  by  Nelly  Hardy,  having  done  her 
utmost  to  allay  their  fears. 

"I  am  not  hurt,"  Mr.  Dodgson  said  heartily,  ''at  least 
not  seriously ;  but  I  fear  that  some  are.  It  is  all  over 
now,  and  those  ruffians  have  fled.     Jack  Simpson  and  a 


FACLySf  DEATH.  151 

party  are  outside  to  escort  you  home.  We  don't  know 
who  are  hurt  yet,  but  they  will  be  carried  to  the  girls* 
schoolroom  and  attended  there.  Harry  Shepherd  ha3 
gone  on  to  get  the  doctor  up,  and  Mr.  Brook  is  sending 
off  a  man  on  horseback  to  Birmingham  for  some  more 
medical  aid  and  a  body  of  police  to  take  charge  of  the 
fellows  we  have  captured ;  they  will  be  in  by  the  early 
train. ' ' 

Everything  was  quiet  in  Stokebridge  when  the  party 
with  the  prisoners  arrived.  The  pitmen,  before  starting, 
had  gone  into  the  public-house  to  get  any  sober  enough 
to  walk  to  join  them;  and  the  few  who  had  kept  up  the 
dancing,  alarmed  at  the  serious  nature  of  the  affair,  of 
which  they  had  tacitly  approved,  scattered  to  their 
homes. 

The  news  of  the  conflict,  however,  quickly  circulated, 
lights  appeared  in  windows,  and  the  women  who  had 
sons  or  daughters  at  the  fete  flocked  out  into  the  streets 
to  hear  the  news.  Many  other  pitmen,  whom  there  had 
not  been  time  enough  to  summon,  soon  joined  them,  and 
deep  indeed  was  the  wrath  with  which  the  news  of  the 
assault  was  received.  Most  of  the  men  at  once  hurried 
away  to  the  scene  of  conflict  to  see  who  were  hurt,  and 
to  assist  to  carry  them  in ;  and  the  sole  ground  for  satis- 
faction was  that  the  women  and  girls  had  all  escaped 
injury. 


isg  '  mvme  BEAm, 


CEAPTEK   XX. 

THE     ARM     OF     THE     LAW. 

That  was  a  sad  night  at  Stokebridge.  Seven  of  the 
lads  were  terribly  injured,  and  in  two  cases  the  doctors 
gave  no  hope  of  recovery.  Thirteen  of  the  other  party 
were  also  grievously  hurt  by  the  blows  of  the  pitmen's 
helves,  some  had  limbs  broken,  and  three  lay  uncon- 
scious all  night.  Most  of  the  boys  had  scalp  wounds, 
inflicted  by  stones  or  sticks,  which  required  dressing. 
Worst  of  all  was  the  news  that  among  the  twenty-five 
uninjured  prisoners  were  eight  who  belonged  to  Stoke-i 
bridge,  beside  five  among  the  wounded. 

Very  few  in  the  village  closed  an  eye  that  night. 
Mothers  went  down  and  implored  the  pitmen  on  guard 
to  release  their  sons,  but  the  pitmen  were  firm ;  moreover 
Mr.  Brook  as  a  magistrate  had  placed  the  two  constables 
of  the  place  at  the  door,  with  the  strictest  order  to  allow 
none  of  the  prisoners  to  escape.  The  six  o'clock  train 
brought  twenty  policemen  from  Birmingham,  and  these 
at  once  took  charge  of  the  schoolhouse  and  relieved  the 
pitmen  of  their  charge.  The  working  of  the  mine  was 
suspended  for  the  day,  and  large  numbers  of  visitors 
poured  into  the  place.  So  desperate  a  riot  had  never 
occurred  in  that  neighborhood  before,  for  even  the  attack 
upon  the  machinery  of  the  mine  was  considered  a  less 
eerious  affair  than  this. 


PACING  DEATH.  153 

Not  only  did  curiosity  to  learu  the  facts  of  the  casa 
attract  a  crowd  of  visitors,  but  there  were  many  people 
who  came  from  the  pit  villages  near  to  inquire  after  miss- 
ing husbands  and  sons,  and  loud  were  the  wailings  of 
women  when  it  was  found  that  these  were  either  prison- 
ers or  were  lying  injured  in  the  temporary  hospital. 

Strangers  entering  the  village  would  have  supposed 
that  a  great  explosion  had  taken  place  in  some  neighbor- 
ing pit.  Blinds  were  down,  women  stood  at  the  doora 
with  their  aprons  to  their  eyes,  children  went  about  in 
an  awed  and  silent  way,  as  if  afraid  of  the  sound  of  their 
own  voice,  many  of  the  young  men  and  lads  had  their 
heads  enveloped  in  surgical  bandages,  and  a  strange  and 
unnatural  calm  pervaded  the  village.  The  "Chequers" 
and  other  public  houses,  however,  did  a  roaring  trade, 
for  the  sight-seer  in  the  Black  Country  is  the  thirstiest  of 
men. 

It  was  soon  known  that  the  magistrates  would  sit  rxt 
Mr.  Brook's  at  one  o'clock,  and  a  policeman  went  round 
the  village  with  a  list  of  names  given  him  by  IVIr.  Dodg- 
son,  to  summon  witnesses  to  attend.  Jack  Simpson  had 
strongly  urged  that  his  name  might  not  be  included;  in 
the  first  place,  because  above  all  things  he  hated  being 
put  forward;  and  in  the  second,  as  he  pointed  out  to  the 
schoolmaster,  it  might  excite  a  feeling  against  him,  and 
hinder  his  power  for  good,  if  he,  the  leader  of  the  young 
men,  was  to  appear  as  a  witness  against  the  elders, 
especially  as  among  the  prisoners  was  Tom  Walker,  with 
whom  he  had  fought.  As  Jack  could  give  no  more  testi- 
mony than  his  companions,  and  as  generally  it  was  con- 
sidered an  important  and  responsible  privilege  to  appear 
as  witness,  Mr.  Dodgson  omitted  Jack's  name  from  the 
list. 

There  was  some  groaning  in  the  crowd  when  the  unin- 


154  FACING  DEATH. 

jured  prisoners  were  marched  out  under  esoort  of  tlia 
police,  for  the  attack  upon  young  women  was  so  contrary 
to  all  the  traditions  of  the  country  that  the  liveliest  in- 
dignation prevailed  against  all  concerned  in  it.  The 
marquee  used  the  night  before  for  the  theatricals  had 
been  hastily  converted  into  a  justice-room.  At  a  table 
Bat  Mr.  Brook  with  four  other  magistrates,  with  a  clerk 
to  take  notes;  the  prisoners  were  ranged  in  a  space  railed 
o££  for  the  purpose,  and  the  general  public  filled  the  rest 
of  the  space. 

Jane  Haden  was  the  first  witness  called.  She  gave 
her  evidence  clearly,  but  wit]2  an  evident  wish  to  screen 
Bome  of  the  accused,  and  was  once  or  twice  sharply  re- 
proved by  the  bench.  She  could  not  say  who  were 
among  the  men  she  saw  gathered,  nor  recognize  any  of 
those  who  had  used  the  threatening  expressions  which 
had  so  alarmed  her  that  she  went  round  to  arouse  the 
elder  men,  and  then  ran  off  to  warn  the  returning  party. 

"Mrs.  Haden,"  Sir  John  Butler,  who  was  the  chair- 
man of  the  magistrates,  said,  "very  great  praise  is  due 
to  you  for  your  quickness  and  decision ;  had  it  not  been 
for  this  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  riot  would  have 
led  to  results  even  more  disastrous  than  those  which  have 
taken  place.  At  the  same  time  it  is  the  feeling  of  the 
court  that  you  are  now  trying  to  screen  the  accused,  for 
it  can  hardly  be  that  passing  so  close  you  could  fail  to 
recognize  some  of  those  whom  j'ou  heard  speak." 

Mr.  Dodgson  then  gave  his  evidence,  as  did  several  of 
the  lads,  who  proved  the  share  that  the  accused  had 
taken  in  the  fray,  and  that  they  were  captured  on  the 
epot ;  while  two  of  the  pitmen  proved  that  when  they 
ai'rived  upon  the  spot  a  desperate  riot  was  going  on,  and 
that  thej'  joined  in  the  fray  to  assist  the  party  attacked. 

The  examination  lasted  for  four  hours,  at  the  end  oi 


FACING  DEATH.  155 

■which  the  whole  of  the  prisoners  were  remanded  to 
prison,  the  case  being  adjourned  for  two  daj's. 

Before  these  were  passed  both  the  lads  whose  casea 
had  been  thought  hopeless  from  the  first,  died,  and  the 
matter  assumed  even  a  more  serious  appearance.  Before 
the  next  heariug  several  of  the  prisoners  offered  to  turn 
king's  evidence,  and  stated  that  they  had  been  incited 
by  the  young  women  at  the  feast. 

Great  excitement  was  caused  in  the  viljage  when  ten 
or  twelve  young  women  were  served  with  warrants  to 
appear  on  the  following  day.  They  were  placed  in  the 
dock  with  the  other  prisoners,  but  no  direct  evidence 
was  taken  against  them.  The  number  of  the  accused 
was  further  swelled  by  two  men  belonging  to  other  vil- 
lages, who  had  been  arrested  on  the  sworn  evidence  of 
some  of  the  lads  that  they  had  been  active  in  the  fray. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  case  the  whole  of  the  male 
prisoners  were  committed  for  trial  on  the  charges  of 
manslaughter  and  riot.  After  these  had  been  removed 
in  custody.  Sir  John  Butler  addressed  a  severe  admoni- 
tion to  the  women. 

It  had,  he  said,  been  decided  not  to  press  the  charge 
against  them  of  inciting  to  riot,  but  that  they  had  used 
expressions  calculated  to  stir  the  men  up  to  their  foul  and 
dastardly  attack  upon  a  number  of  young  women  and 
girls  there  could  be  no  doubt.  The  magistrates,  how- 
ever, had  decided  to  discharge  them,  and  hoped  that  the 
inward  reproach  which  they  could  not  but  feel  at  having 
a  hand  in  this  disgraceful  and  fatal  outrage  would  be  a 
lesson  to  them  through  life. 

Trembling  and  abashed,  the  women  made  their  way 
home,  many  of  the  crowd  hissing  them  as  they  passed 
along. 

"When,  six  weeks  later,  the  assizes  were  held,  four  of 


156  FACING  DEATH, 

the  prisoners,  including  Tom  Walker,  who  was  proved  to 
be  the  leader  were  sentenced  to  seven  years'  penal  servi- 
tude. Ten  men  had  terms  of  imprisonment  varying  from 
tv/o  to  five  years,  and  the  rest  were  let  off  with  sentences 
of  from  six  to  eighteen  months. 

Very  long  did  the  remembrance  of  "The  Black  Feast," 
as  it  came  to  be  called,  linger  in  the  memories  of  tho 
people  of  Stokebridge  and  the  surrounding  district. 
Great  as  was  the  grief  and  suffering  caused  alike  to  the 
friends  of  those  injured  and  of  those  upon  whom  fell 
punishment  and  disgrace,  the  ultimate  effect  of  the  riot, 
was,  however,  most  beneficial  to  Stokebridge.  Many  of 
the  young  men  who  had  most  strongly  opposed  and  de- 
rided the  efforts  of  their  juniors  to  improve  themselves 
were  now  removed,  for  in  addition  to  those  captured  and 
sentenced,  several  of  those  who  had  taken  part  in  the 
riot  hastily  left  the  place  upon  the  following  day,  fearing 
arrest  and  punishment  for  their  share  in  the  night's  pro- 
ceedings. Few  of  them  returned  after  the  conclusion  of 
the  trial,  nor  did  the  prisoners  after  the  termination  of 
their  sentences,  for  the  feeling  against  them  in  the  dis- 
trict was  so  strong  that  they  preferred  obtaining  work  in 
distant  parts  of  the  country. 

A  similar  effect  was  produced  upon  the  young  women. 
The  narrow  escape  which  they  had  had  of  being  sent  to 
prison,  the  disgrace  of  being  arrested  and  publicly  cen- 
sured, the  averted  looks  of  their  neighbors,  and  the 
removal  from  the  place  of  the  young  men  with  whom 
they  had  been  used  to  associate,  combined  to  produce  a 
great  effect  upon  them. 

Some  profited  by  the  lesson  and  adapted  themselves  to 
the  altered  ways  of  the  place;  others,  after  trying  to 
brave  it  out,  left  Stokebridge  and  obtained  employment 
in   the   factories   of  Birmingham;    while   others   agaia^ 


FAGUTQ  DEATH.  157 

previously  engaged  to  some  of  the  young  men  who  bad 
left  the  village,  were  sooner  or  later  married  to  theiii, 
and  were  heai'd  of  no  more  in  Stokebridge. 

This  removal  by  one  means  or  another  of  soma 
forty  or  fifty  of  the  young  men  and  women  of  tha 
place  most  opposed  to  the  spirit  of  improvement  pro- 
duced an  excellent  effect.  Other  miners  came,  of  course, 
to  the  village  to  take  the  places  of  those  who  had  left, 
but  as  Mr.  Brook  instructed  his  manager  to  fill  up  tha 
vacant  stalls  as  far  as  possible  with  middle-aged  men 
with  families,  and  not  with  young  men,  the  newcomcra 
were  not  an  element  of  disturbance. 

The  price  of  coal  was  at  this  time  high,  and  Mr.  Brook 
informed  the  clergyman  that,  as  he  was  drawing  a  larger 
income  than  usual  from  the  mines,  be  was  willing  to  giv3 
a  sum  for  any  purpose  which  he  might  recommend  r.3 
generally  useful  to  the  families  of  his  work-people.  Tho 
vicar  as  usual  consulted  his  valued  assistants,  the  Dodg- 
sons,  and  after  much  deliberation  it  was  agreed  that  it' 
a  building  were  to  be  erected,  the  lower  story  of  which 
should  be  fitted  up  as  a  laundry  and  wash-house,  upcu 
the  plan  which  was  then  being  introduced  in  some  large 
towns,  it  would  be  an  immense  boon  to  the  place.  The 
upper  story  was  to  be  furnished  as  a  reading-room  with 
a  few  papers  and  a  small  library  of  useful  and  entertain- 
ing books  for  reading  upon  the  spot  or  lending.  Plana 
were  obtained  and  estimates  given,  and  Mr.  Brook  ex- 
pressed his  willingness  to  contribute  the  sum  of  eighteen 
hundred  pounds,  for  which  a  contractor  offered  to  com- 
plete the  work. 


158  FACING  DEATH, 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

A  KNOTTY  QUESTION. 

It  has  not  been  mentioned  that  at  the/e/e  at  Mr. Brook's 
on  the  memorable  occasion  of  the  Black  Feast,  Mr. 
Merton  and  his  daughter  were  staying  as  guests  with 
Mr.  Brook.  Mr.  Merton  was  much  struck  with  the  ex- 
traordinarj-  improvement  which  had  taken  place  in  the 
bearing  and  appearance  of  the  young  people. 

"Yes,"  Mr.  Dodgson^  whom  he  congratulated  upon  the 
change  said;  "it  is  entirely  due  to  the  suggestion  which 
you  made  upon  my  arrival  here.  The  night-schools  for 
lads  and  the  sewing  and  cooking  classes  for  the  girls  have 
done  wonders,  and  I  have  found  in  the  lad  you  recom- 
raended  to  my  attention.  Jack  Simpson  an  invaluable  ally. 
Without  him,  indeed,  I  think  that  our  plan  would  have 
been  a  failure.  He  is  a  singular  young  fellow,  so  quiet 
yet  so  determined ;  the  influence  he  has  over  the  lads  of 
his  own  age  is  immense." 

"He  is  more  than  singular,"  Mr.  Merton  said  warmly; 
"he  is  extraordinary.  You  only  see  one  side  of  his  char- 
acter ;  I  see  both.  As  a  scholar  he  is  altogether  remarka- 
ble. He  could  carry  off  any  open  scholarship  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  could  take  away  the  highest  honors;  he  could 
pass  high  up  among  the  wranglers  even  now,  and  has  a 
broad  and  solid  knowledge  of  other  subjects." 

"Indeed!"  Mr.  Dodgson  said,  surprised;  "this  is 
quite  new  to  me.     I  know  that  he  studies  hard  privately, 


FACING  DEATH.  159 

Snd  that  he  Tvent  over  to  see  you  once  a  month,  but  I  had 

CO  idea  that  his  acquirements  were  anything  exceptional; 
and,  indeed,  although  his  speech  is  often  superior  to  that 
of  the  other  young  fellows,  he  often  makes  mietakes  in 
grammar  and  pronunciation." 

Mr.  Merton  laughed.  "That  is  one  of  his  peculiarities; 
he  does  not  wish  to  be  thought  above  his  fellows;  look  at 
his  dress,  now!  But  if  j^ou  saw  him  wiih  me,  and  heard 
him  talking  with  tho  first  men  of  education  and  science 
in  Birmingham  you  would  share  the  astonishment  they 
often  express  to  me,  and  would  take  him  not  only  for  a 
young  gentleman,  but  for  one  of  singular  and  exception- 
ally cultured  mind." 

Jack's  attire,  indeed — it  was  after  the  conclusion  of 
the  cricket-match,  and  he  had  changed  his  clothes— was 
that  of  the  ordinary  pitman  in  his  Sunday  suit.  A  black 
cutaway  coat,  badly  fitting,  and  made  by  the  village 
tailor,  a  black  waistcoat  and  trousers,  with  thick  high- 
low  shoes.  His  appearance  had  attracted  the  attention 
of  Miss  Merton,  who,  as  he  approached  her,  held  out  her 
hand. 

"How  are  you.  Jack?  "What  on  earth  have  you  been 
doing  to  yourself?  You  look  a  complete  guy  in  these 
clothes.     I  was  half-tempted  to  cut  you  downright." 

Jack  laughed. 

"This  is  my  Sunday  suit,  Miss  Merton,  it  is  just  the 
same  as  other  people's. 

"Perhaps  it  is,"  the  girl  said,  laughing,  and  looking 
round  with  just  a  little  curl  of  her  lip;  "but  you  know- 
better,  Jack;  why  should  you  make  such  a  figure  of 
yourself." 

"I  dress  here  like  what  I  am,"  Jack  said  simply,  "a 
pitman.  At  your  house  I  dress  as  one  of  your  father's 
guests." 


180 


FACING  DEATH. 


"I  suppose  you  please  yourself,  and  that  you  always 
do,  Mr.  Jack  Simpson;  you  are  the  most  obstinate^ 
incorrigible 

"Euffian,"  Jack  put  in,  laughing. 

•'Well,  I  don't  know  about  ruffian,"  the  girl  said, 
laughing  too;  "but,  Jack,  who  is  that  girl  watching  us, 
the  quiet-looking  girl  in  a  dark-brown  dress  and  straw 
bonnet?" 

"That  is  my  friend  Nelly  Hardy,"  Jack  said  seriously. 

"Yes,  you  have  often  spoken  to  ma  about  her  and  1 
have  wanted  to  see  her ;  what  a  nice  face  she  has,  and 
handsome  too,  with  her  great  dark  eyes!  Jack,  you 
must  introduce  me  to  her,  I  should  like  to  know  her." 

"Certainly,"  Jack  said  with  a  pleased  look;  and 
accompanied  by  Alice  he  walked  across  the  lawa  toward 
her. 

Nelly  turned  the  instant  that  they  moved,  and  walking 
away  joined  some  other  girls.     Jack,  hov/ever,  followed. 

"Nelly,"  he  said,  when  he  reached  her,  "this  is  Miss 
Merton,  who  wants  to  know  you.  Miss  Merton,  this  ia 
my  friend  Nelly  Hardy." 

Nelly  bent  her  head  silently,  but  Alice  held  out  her 
hand  frankly. 

"Jack  has  told  me  so  much  about  you,"  she  said, 
*'that  I  wanted,  above  all  things,  to  see  j'ou." 

Nelly  looked  steadily  up  into  her  face.  It  was  a  face 
any  one  might  look  at  with  pleasure — frank,  joyous,  and 
kindly.  It  was  an  earnest  face  too,  less  marked  and 
earnest  than  that  now  looking  at  her,  but  with  lines  of 
character  and  firmness. 

Nelly's  expression  softened  as  she  gazed. 

"You  are  very  good.  Miss  Merton;  I  have  often  heard 
of  you  too,  and  wanted  to  see  you  as  much  as  you  could 
have  done  to  see  me. " 


FACmG  DEATH.  161 

**I  hope  you  like  me  now  you  do  see  me,"  Miss  Mer- 
ton  laughed ;  "you  won't  bo  angry  when  I  say  that  I 
like  you,  though  you  did  turn  away  when  you  saw  ua 
coming." 

"You  are  accustomed  to  meet  people  and  be  intro- 
duced," Nelly  said  quietly;  "I  am  not,  you  see." 

"I  don't  think  you  are  shy,"  Miss  Merton  said,  smil» 
ing,  "but  you  had  a  reason;  perhaps  some  day  when  WQ 
know  each  other  better  you  will  tell  me.  I  have  been 
scolding  Jack  for  making  such  a  figure  of  himself.  You 
are  his  friend  and  should  not  let  him  do  it." 

Jack  laughed,  while  Nelly  looked  in  surprise  at  him. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  him?"  she  asked;  "I  don't 
see  that  there  is  anything  wrong." 

"Not  wrong,"  Miss  Merton  said,  "only  singular  to  me. 
He  has  got  on  clothes  just  like  all  the  rest,  which  don't 
fit  him  at  all,  and  look  as  if  they  had  been  made  to  put 
on  to  a  wooden  figure  in  a  shop  window,  while  when  we 
gee  him  he  is  always  properly  dressed." 

Nelly  flashed  a  quiet  look  of  inquiry  at  Jack. 

"You  never  told  me.  Jack,"  she  said,  with  an 
aggrieved  ring  in  her  voice,  "that  you  dressed  differently 
at  Birmingham  to  what  you  do  here." 

"There  was  nothing  to  tell  really, "  he  said  quietly. 
"I  told  you  that  I  had  had  some  clothes  made  there,  and 
always  wore  them  at  Mr.  Morton's;  but  I  don't  know," 
and  he  smiled,  "that  I  did  enter  into  any  particulars 
about  their  cut;  indeed  I  never  thought  of  this  myself." 

"I  don't  suppose  you  did.  Jack,"  the  girl  said  gently, 
for  she  knew  how  absolutely  truthful  he  was;  "but  j'ou 
ought  to  have  told  me.  But  see,  they  are  getting  ready 
to  go  into  the  tent,  and  I  must  help  look  after  the  young 
ones." 

"What  a  fine  face  she  has!"  Alice  said;  "but  I  don't 
think  she  quite  likes  me.  Jack." 


J63  FACING  DEATH. 

"Not  like  you!"  Jack  said,  astonished,  "what  makes 
you  think  that?  she  was  sure  to  like  you;  why,  even  if 
nobody  else  liked  you  Nelly  would,  because  you  have 
been  so  kind  to  me." 

For  the  next  few  days  the  serious  events  of  the  night 
absorbed  all  thought;  indeed,  it  was  not  until  the  follow- 
ing Sunday  afternoon  that  Jack  and  Nelly  Hardy  met. 
Harry  Shepherd,  who  generally  accompanied  them  in 
their  walks  upon  this  day,  was  still  suffering  from  tha 
effects  of  the  injuries  he  had  received  in  the  riot.  Jack 
and  his  companion  talked  over  that  event  until  they 
turned  to  come  back. 

Then  after  a  pause  the  girl  asked  suddenly,  "How  do 
you  like  Alice  Merton,  Jack?" 

Jack  was  in  no  way  taken  by  surprise,  but,  ignorant 
that  the  black  ej-eswere  keenly  watching  him,  he  replied: 

"Oh,  I  like  her  very  much,  I  have  often  told  you  so, 
Nelly." 

"Do  you  like  her  better  than  me,  Jack?" 

Jack  looked  surprised  this  time. 

"What  should  put  such  a  thought  in  your  head,  l:;s3? 
"You  know  I  like  you  and  Harry  better  than  any  one  in 
the  world.  We  are  like  three  brothers.  It  is  not  likely 
I  should  like  Alice  Merton,  whom  I  only  see  once  a 
month,  better  than  you.  She  is  very  kind,  very  pleas- 
ant, very  bright.  She  treats  me  as  an  equal  and  I  would 
do  anything  for  her,  but  she  couldn't  be  the  same  as  you 
are,  no  one  can.  Perhaps,"  he  said,  "years  on — for  you 
know  that  I  have  always  said  that  I  should  not  marry 
till  I'm  thirty,  that's  what  my  good  friend  told  me  mora 
than  ten  years  ago — I  shall  find  some  one  I  shall  like  as 
well  as  you,  but  that  will  be  in  a  different  way,  and  you 
will  be  married  years  and  years  before  that.     Let  ma 


FACING  DEATH.  163 

think,  you  are  nearly  seventeen,  Nelly?"  The  girl 
nodded,  her  face  was  turned  the  other  way.  "Yes,  you 
are  above  a  year  younger  than  I  am.  Some  girls  marry 
by  seventeen ;  I  wonder  no  one  has  been  after  you  al- 
ready, Nelly ;  there  is  no  girl  in  the  village  to  compare 
■with  you." 

But  Nelly,  without  a  word,  darted  away  at  full  speed 
up  the  lane  toward  home,  leaving  Jack  speechless  with 
astonishment.  "She  hasn't  done  that  for  years,"  he 
said;  "it's  just  the  way  she  used  to  do  when  we  were 
first  friends.  If  she  got  in  a  temper  about  anything  she 
would  rush  away  and  hide  herself  and  cry  for  hours. 
"What  could  I  have  said  to  vex  her  about  her  marrying, 
or  having  some  one  courting  her;  there  couldn't  be  any- 
thing in  that  to  vex  her."  Jack  thought  for  some  time, 
sitting  upon  a  stile  the  better  to  give  his  mind  to  it. 
Finally  he  gave  up  the  problem  in  despair,  grumbling  to 
himself,  "One  never  gets  to  understand  girls;  here  I've 
known  Nelly  for  the  last  seven  years  like  a  sister,  and 
there  she  flies  away  crying — I'm  sure  she  was  crj'ing, 
because  she  always  used  to  cry  when  she  ran  away — and 
what  it  is  about  I  have  not  the  least  idea.  Now  I  mustn't 
say  anything  about  it  when  I  meet  her  next,  I  know  that 
of  old,  unless  she  does  first,  but  as  likely  as  not  she  will 
never  allude  to  it." 

In  fact  no  allusion  ever  was  made  to  the  circumstance, 
for  before  the  following  Sunday  came  round  John  Hardy 
had  died.  He  had  been  sinking  for  mouths,  and  his 
death  had  been  looked  for  for  some  time.  It  was  not  a 
blow  to  his  daughter,  and  could  hardly  be  a  great  grief, 
for  he  had  been  a  drunken,  worthless  man,  caring  noth  • 
ing  for  his  child,  and  frequently  brutally  assaulting  her 
in  his  drunken  fits.  She  had  attended  him  patiently  and 
assiduously  for  months,  but  no  word  of  thanks  had  ever 


164  FACING  DEATH. 

issued  from  his  lip.  His  character  was  so  well  known 
that  no  one  regarded  his  death  as  an  event  for  which  his 
daughter  should  be  pitied.  It  would,  however,  effect  a 
change  in  her  circumstances.  Hardy  had,  ever  since 
the  attack  upon  the  Vaughan,  received  an  allowance  from 
the  union,  as  well  as  from  the  sick  club  to  which  he  be- 
longed, but  this  would  now  cease ;  and  it  was  conjectured 
by  the  neighbors  that  "th'  old  'ooman  would  have  to 
go  into  the  house,  and  Nelly  would  go  into  a  factory  at 
Birmingham  or  Wolverhampton,  or  would  go  into  serv- 
ice."  Nelly's  mother  was  a  broken  woman;  years  of  in- 
temperance had  prematurely  aged  her,  and  her  enforced 
temperance  during  the  last  few  months  had  apparently 
broken  her  spirit  altogether,  and  the  coarse,  violent 
woman  had  almost  sunk  into  quick  imbecility. 


FACING  DEATH,  165 


CHAPTER  XXn. 

THE  SOLUTION. 

Among  others  who  talked  over  Nelly  Hardy's  future 

v.-ere  Mr,  and  Mrs.  Dodgson.  They  were  very  fond  of 
hsv,  for  from  the  first  she  had  been  the  steadiest  and 
irsost  industrious  of  the  young  girls  of  the  place,  and  by 
diligent  study  had  raised  herself  far  in  advance  of  the 
r33t.  She  had  too  been  always  so  willing  and  ready  to 
oblige  and  help  that  she  was  a  great  favorite  with  both. 

"I  have  been  thinking,"  Mrs.  Dodgson  said  to  her 
husband  on  the  evening  of  the  day  of  John  Hardy'a 
death,  "whether,  as  Miss  Bolton,  the  assistant  mistress, 
16  going  to  leave  at  the  end  of  the  month,  to  be  married, 
Helly  Hardy  would  not  make  an  excellent  successor  for 
her.  There  is  no  doubt  she  its  fully  capable  of  filling 
the  situation ;  her  manners  aa-e  all  that  could  be  wished, 
and  she  has  great  influence  with  the  younger  children. 
The  only  drawback  was  her  disreputable  old  father.  It 
would  hardly  have  done  for  my  assistant  to  appear  in 
school  in  the  morning  with  a  black  eye,  and  for  all  the 
children  to  know  that  her  drunken  father  had  been  beat- 
ing her.  Now  he  is  gone  that  objection  is  at  an  end. 
She  and  her  mother,  who  has  been  as  bad  as  the  father, 
but  is  now,  I  believe,  almost  imbecile,  could  live  in  the 
little  cottage  Miss  Bolton  occupies." 

"I  think  it  would  be  an  excellent  plan,  my  dear,  excel- 
lent ;  we  could  have  no  one  we  should  like  better,  or  who 


166  FACING  DEATH. 

could  be  a  more  trustworthy  and  helpful  assistant  t9 
you.  By  all  means  let  it  be  Nelly  Hardy.  I  will  go  up 
and  speak  to  Mr.  Brook  to-morrow.  As  he  is  our  patron 
I  must  consult  him,  but  he  will  agree  to  anything  W9 
propose.  Let  us  say  nothing  about  it  until  you  tell  her 
yourself  after  the  funeral." 

Mrs.  Dodgson  saw  Nelly  Hardy  several  times  in  the 
next  few  days,  and  went  in  and  sat  with  her  as  she 
worked  at  her  mourning;  but  it  was  not  until  John 
Hardy  was  laid  in  the  churchyard  that  she  opened  the 
subject. 

"Come  up  in  the  morning  my  dear,"  she  had  said  that 
day;  "I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

On  the  following  morning  Nelly,  in  her  neatly  fitting 
black  mourning  dress,  made  her  appearance  at  the 
schoolhouse,  after  breakfast,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before 
school  began. 

"Sit  down,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Dodgson  said,  "I  have 
some  news  to  give .  yen  which  will,  I  think,  please  you. 
Of  course  you  have  been  thinking  what  to  do?" 

"Yes,  'm;  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  try  and  get 
work  in  a  factory." 

"Indeed!  Nelly,"  Mrs.  Dodgson  said,  surprised;  "I 
should  have  thought  that  was  the  last  thing  that  you 
would  like." 

"It  is  not  what  I  like,"  Nelly  said  quietly,  but  what 
is  best.  I  would  rather  go  into  service,  and  as  I  am  fond 
of  children  and  used  to  them,  I  might,  with  your  kind 
recommendation,  get  a  comfortable  situation;  but  in  that 
case  mother  must  go  to  the  house,  and  I  could  not  bear 
to  think  of  her  there.  She  is  very  helpless,  and  of  lata 
she  has  come  to  look  to  me,  and  would  be  miserabla 
among  strangers.  I  could  earn  enough  at  a  factory  to 
keep  us  both,  living  very  closely." 


FACINQ  DEATH.  167 

"Well,  Nelly,  your  decision  does  you  honor,  but  I 
think  my  plan  is  better.  Have  your  beard  that  Miss 
Bolton  is  going  to  leave  us?" 

"I  have  beard  she  was  engaged  to  be  married  some 
day,  'm,  but  I  did  not  know  the  time  was  fixed." 

"She  leaves  at  the  end  of  this  month,  that  is  in  a  fort- 
night, and  her  place  has  already  been  'filled  up.  Upon 
the  recommendation  of  myself  and  Mr.  Dodgson,  Mr. 
Brook  has  appointed  Miss  Nelly  Hardy  as  her  successor." 

"Me!"  exclaimed  Nelly,  rising  with  a  bewildered  air. 
*'0h,  Mrs.  Dodgson,  you  cannot  mean  it?" 

"I  do,  indeed,  Nelly.  Your  conduct  here  has  been 
most  satisfactory  in  every  way;  you  have  a  great  influ- 
ence with  the  children,  and  your  attainments  and  knowl- 
edge are  amply  sufficient  for  the  post  of  my  assistant. 
You  will  of  course,  have  Miss  Bolton's  cottage  and  can 
watch  over  your  mother.  You  will  have  opportunities 
for  studying  to  fit  yourself  to  take  another  step  upwai-d, 
and  become  a  head-mistress  some  day." 

Mrs.  Dodgson  had  continued  talking,  for  she  saw  that 
Nelly  was  too  much  agitated  and  overcome  to  speak, 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Dodgson,"  she  sobbed,  "how  can  I  thank 
you  enough?" 

"There  are  no  thanks  due,  my  dear.  Of  course  I 
want  the  best  assistant  I  can  get,  and  I  know  of  no  one 
upon  whom  I  can  rely  more  thoroughly  than  yourself. 
You  have  no  one  but  yourself  to  thank,  for  it  is  your 
good  conduct  and  industry  alone  which  have  made  j'ou 
what  you  are,  and  that  under  circumstances  of  the  most 
unfavorable  kind.  But  there  is  the  bell  ringing  for  school. 
I  suppose  I  may  tell  Mr.  Brook  that  you  accept  the  situa- 
tion; the  pay,  thirty  pounds  a  year  and  the  cottage  is 
not  larger,  perhaps,  than  you  might  earu  at  a  factory, 
but  I  think " 


168  FACII^G  DEATH. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Dodgson,"  Nelly  said,  smiling  through 
her  tears,  "I  accept,  I  accept.  I  would  rather  live  on  a 
crust  of  bread  here  than  work  in  a  factory,  and  if  I  had 
had  the  choice  of  everything  I  should  prefer  this." 

Mr.  Dodgson  here  came  in,  shook  Nelly's  hand  and 
congratulated  her,  and  with  a  happy  heart  the  girl  took 
her  way  home. 

Jack,  upon  his  return  from  the  pit,  found  Nelly  await- 
ing him  at  the  corner  where  for  years  she  had  stood. 
He  had  seen  her  once  since  her  father's  death,  and  had 
pressed  her  hand  warmly  to  express  his  sympathy,  but 
he  was  too  honest  to  condole  with  her  on  a  loss  which 
was,  he  knew,  a  relief.  He  and  Harry  had  in  the  inter- 
vening time  talked  much  of  Nelly's  prospects.  Jack  was 
averse  in  the  extreme  to  her  going  into  service,  still  more 
averse  to  her  going  into  a  factory,  but  could  suggest  no' 
alternative  plan. 

"If  she  were  a  boy,"  he  said,  "it  would  be  easy 
enough.  I  am  getting  eighteen  shillings  a  week  now, 
and  could  let  her  have  five  easily,  and  she  might  take  in 
dressmaking.  There  are  plenty  of  people  in  the  villages 
round  would  be  glad  to  get  their  dresses  made ;  but  she 
would  have  to  live  till  she  got  known  a  bit,  and  you 
know  she  wouldn't  take  my  five  shillings.  I  wouldn't 
dare  offer  it  to  her.  Now  if  it  was  you  there  would  be 
no  trouble  at  all;  you  would  take  it,  of  course,  just  as  I 
should  take  it  of  you,  but  she  wouldn't,  because  she's  a 
lass — it  beats  me  altogether.  I  might  get  mother  to. offer 
her  the  money,  but  Nelly  would  know  it  was  me  sharp 
enough,  and  it  would  be  all  the  same." 

"I  really  think  that  Nelly  might  do  well  wi'  dress- 
making," Harry  said  after  a  pause.  "Here  all  the  lasses 
ha'  learned  to  work,  but,  as  you  say,  in  the  other  vil- 
lages they  know  no  more  than  we  did  here  three  years 


FACING  DEATS.  269 

back ;  if  we  got  some  bills  printed  and  sent  'em  round,  I 
should  say  slie  might  do.  There  are  other  things  you 
don't  seem  to  ha'  thought  on,  Jack,"  he  said  hesitat- 
ingly. "You're  only  eighteen  yet,  but  you  are  earnin  ^ 
near  a  pound  a  week,  and  in  another  two  or  three  years 
will  be  getting  man's  pay,  and  you  are  sure  to  rise. 
Have  you  never  thought  of  marrying  Nelly?" 

Jack  jumped  as  if  he  had  trodden  on  a  snake. 

"I  marry  Nelly!"  he  said  in  astonishment.  "What!  I 
marry  Nelly !  are  you  mad,  Harry  ?  You  know  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  marry  for  years,  not  till  I'ra 
thirty  and  have  made  my  way ;  and  as  to  Nelly,  why  I 
never  thought  of  her,  nor  of  any  other  lass  in  that  way; 
her  least  of  all ;  why,  she  is  like  my  sister.  "Whatever 
put  such  a  ridiculous  idea  in  your  head?  Why,  at  eigh- 
teen boj'-s  haven't  left  school  and  are  looking  forward  to 
going  to  college;  those  boy  and  girl  marriages  among 
our  class  are  the  cause  of  half  our  troubles.  Thirtj'  ia 
quite  time  enough  to  marry.  How  Nelly  would  laugh  if 
she  knew  what  you'd  said!" 

"I  should  advise  you  not  to  tell  her,"  Harry  said 
dryly;  "I  greatly  mistake  if  she  would  regard  it  as  a 
laughing  matter  at  all." 

"No,  lasses  are  strange  things,  "Jack  meditated  again. 
"But,  Harry,  you  are  as  old  as  I  am,  and  are  earning  the 
same  wage;  why  don't  you  marry  her?" 

"I  would,"  Harry  said  earnestly,  "to-morrow  if  she'd 
have  me." 

"You  would!"  Jack  exclaimed,  as  much  astonished  as 
by  his  friend's  first  proposition.  "To  think  of  that  now! 
Why,  you  have  alwaj^s  been  with  her  just  as  I  have. 
You  have  never  shown  that  you  cared  for  her,  never 
given  her  presents,  nor  walked  with  her,  nor  anything. 
And  do  you  really  care  for  her,  Harry?" 


170  FACING  DEATH. 

"Ay,"  Harry  said  shortly,  "I  have  cared  for  her  for 
years." 

"And  to  think  that  I  have  never  seen  that!"  Jack 
said.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  "Why,  you  are  as 
difficult  to  understand  as  she  is,  and  I  thought  I  knew 
you  so  well!" 

"What  would  have  been  the  use?"  Harry  said. 
"Nelly  likes  me  as  a  friend,  that's  all." 

"That's  it, "  Jack  said.  "Of  course  when  people  are 
friends  they  don't  think  of  each  other  in  any  other  way. 
Still,  Harry,  she  may  get  to  in  time.  Nelly 's  pretty  well 
a  woman,  she's  seventeen  now,  but  she  has  no  one  else 
after  her  that  I  know  of." 

"Well,  Jack,  I  fancy  she  could  have  plenty  after  her, 
for  she's  the  prettiest  and  best  girl  o'  the  place;  but  you 
see,  you  are  always  about  wi'  her,  and  I  think  that  most 
people  think  it  will  be  a  match  some  day." 

"People  are  fools,"  Jack  burst  out  wrathfully.  "Who 
says  so?  just  tell  me  who  says  so?" 

"People  say  so,  Jack,  When  a  young  chap  and  a  lass 
walk  together  people  suppose  there  is  something  in  it, 
and  you  and  Nelly  ha'  been  walking  together  for  the  last 
five  years." 

"Walking  together!"  Jack  repeated  angrily;  "we have 
been  going  about  together  of  course,  and  you  have  gen- 
erally been  with  us,  and  often  enough  half  a  dozen  others; 
that  is  not  like  walking  together.  Nelly  knew,  and  every- 
one knew,  that  we  agreed  to  be  friends  from  the  day  we 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  old  shaft  when  you  were  in  the 
water  below,  and  we  have  never  changed  since." 

"I  know  you  have  :iever  changed,  Jack,  never  thought 
of  Nelly  but  as  a  true  friend  I  did  not  know  whether 
now  you  might  think  differently.  I  wanted  to  hear  from 
your  own  lips.     Now  I  know  you  don't,  that  you  have 


FACING  DEA13.  171 

CO  thought  of  ever  being  more  than  a  true  friend  to  her^ 
I  shall  try  if  I  cannot  win  her." 

"Do,"  Jack  said,  shaking  his  friend's  hand.  "I  am 
eurs  I  wish  you  success.  Nothing  in  the  world  would 
please  me  so  much  as  to  see  my  two  friends  marry,  and 
though  I  do  think,  yes,  I  really  do,  Harry,  that  young 
marriages  are  bad,  yet  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  and 
Nelly  would  be  happy  together  anyhow.  And  when  do 
you  mean  to  ask  her?" 

"What  an  impatient  fellow  you  are  Jack!"  Harry  said, 
smiling.  "Nelly  has  no  more  idea  that  I  care  for  her 
than  you  had,  and  I  am  not  going  to  tell  her  so  all  at 
once.  I  don't  think,"  he  said  gravely,  "mark  me,  Jack, 
I  don't  think  Nelly  will  ever  have  me,  but  if  patience 
and  love  can  win  her  I  shall  suceed  in  the  end." 

Jack  looked  greatly  surprised  again. 

"Don't  say  any  more  about  it.  Jack,"  Harry  went  on. 
"It  'ull  be  a  long  job  o'  work,  but  I  can  bide  my  timo; 
but  above  all,  if  you  wish  me  well,  do  not  even  breathe  a 
word  to  Nelly  of  what  I  have  said. " 

From  this  interview  Jack  departed  very  much  mysti- 
fied. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "lads  when 
they're  in  love  get  to  be  like  lasses,  there's  no  under- 
standing them.  I  know  nowt  of  love  myself,  and  what 
I've  read  in  books,  didn't  seem  natural,  but  I  suppose  it 
must  be  true,  for  even  Harry,  who  I  thought  I  knew  as 
well  as  myself,  turued  as  mysterious  as — well,  as  a  ghost. 
What  does  he  mean  by  he's  got  to  be  patient,  and  to 
wait,  and  it  will  be  a  long  job?  If  he  likes  Nelly  and 
Nelb'  likes  him — and  why  shouldn't  she? — I  don't  knov; 
why  they  shouldn't  marry  in  a  year  or  two,  though  I  do 
hate  young  marriages.  Anyhow  I'll  talk  to  her  about 
the  dressmaking  idea.     If  Harry's  got  to  make  love  to 


172  FACING  DEATH. 

her,  it  will  be  far  better  for  him  to  do  it  here  than  to 
have  to  go  walking  her  cut  o'  Sundays  at  Birmingham. 
If  she  would  but  let  me  help  her  a  bit  till  she's  got  into 
business  it  would  be  as  easy  as  possible." 

Jack,  however,  soon  had  the  opportunity  of  laying  his 
scheme  fully  before  Nelly  Hardy,  and  when  she  had 
turned  off  from  the  road  with  him  she  broke  out : 

"Oh,  Jack,  I  have  such  a  piece  of  news;  but  perhapri 
you  know  it,  do  you?"  she  asked  jealously. 

"No,  I  don't  know  any  particular  piece  of  news." 

"Not  anything  likely  to  interest  me.  Jack?" 

"No,"  Jack  said  puzzled. 

'*Honor,  you  haven't  the  least  idea  what  it  is?" 

**Honor,  I  haven't,"  Jack  said. 

"I'm  going  to  be  a  schoolmistress  in  place  of  Mies 
Bolton." 

"No!"  Jack  shouted  delightedly;  "lam  glad,  Nelly, 
I  am  glad.  Why,  it  is  just  the  thing  for  you;  Harry 
and  I  have  been  puzzling  our  heads  all  the  week  as  to  what 
you  should  do!" 

"And  what  did  your  united  wisdom  arrive  at?"  Nelly 
laughed. 

"We  thought  you  might  do  here  at  dressmaking," 
Jack  said,  "after  a  bit,  you  know." 

"The  thought  was  not  a  bad  one,"  she  said;  "it  never 
occurred  to  me,  and  had  this  great  good  fortune  not 
come  to  me  I  might  perhaps  have  tried.  It  was  good  of 
you  to  think  of  it.  And  so  you  never  heard  a  whisper 
about  the  schoolmistress?  I  thought  you  might  perhaps 
have  suggested  it  somehow,  you  know  you  always  do 
suggest  things  here." 

"No,  indeed,  Nelly,  I  did  not  hear  Miss  Bolton  was 
going." 

"I  am  glad,"  the  girl  said. 


Facing  D.  Thh  New  Schoolmistress.— Page  172. 


FACING  DEATH.  vn 

""Are  you?"  Jack  replied  in  surprise.  "Why,  Nelly, 
rrculdii't  you  have  liked  ine  to  have  helped  you?" 

"Yes  and  no.  Jack;  but  no  more  than  yes.  I  do  ow3 
everything  to  you.  It  was  you  who  made  me  your  friend, 
you  who  taught  me,  you  who  urged  me  on,  you  who 
have  made  me  what  I  am.  No,  Jack,  dear,"  she  said, 
seeing  that  Jack  looked  pained  at  her  thanks;  "I  have 
never  thanked  you  before,  and  I  must  do  it  now.  I  owe 
everything  to  you,  and  in  one  way  I  should  have  been 
pleased  to  owe  this  to  you  also,  but  in  another  way  I  am 
pleased  not  to  do  so,  because  my  gaining  it  by,  if  I  may 
say  so,  my  own  merits,  shows  that  I  have  done  my  best 
to  pi'OVG  worthj'  of  your  kindness  and  friendship." 

Tears  of  earnestness  stood  in  her  eyes,  and  Jack  fels 
that  disclaimer  would  be  ungracious. 

"I  am  glad,"  he  said  again  after  a  pause.  "And  now. 
Miss  Hardy,"  and  he  touched  his  hat,  laughing,  "that 
you  have  risen  in  the  world,  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to 
take  airs  upon  yourself." 

Nelly  laughed.  "It  is  strange,"  she  said,  "that  I 
should  be  the  first  to  take  a  step  upward,  for  Mrs.  Dodg- 
Bon  is  going  to  help  me  to  go  in  and  qualify  for  a  head- 
Bchoolmistressship  some  day ;  but.  Jack,  it  is  only  for  a 
little  time.  You  laugh  and  call  me  Miss  Hardy  to-day, 
but  the  time  will  come  when  I  shall  say  'sir'  to  you;  3'ou 
are  longer  beginning,  but  you  will  rise  far  higher;  but 
we  shall  awa^'S  be  friends,  shall  we  not.  Jack?" 

"Always,  Nelly, "  Jack  said  earnestl3^  "Wherever  or 
whatever  Jack  Simpson  may  be,  he  will  ever  bo  your 
true  and  faithful  friend,  and  nothing  which  may  ever 
happen  to  me,  no  rise  I  may  ever  make,  will  give  mo  the 
pleasure  which  this  good  fortune  which  has  befallen  yoa 
has  done.  If  I  ever  rise  it  will  make  me  happy  to  help 
Harry,  but  I  know  you  would  never  have  let  me 


174  FACING  DEATH. 

you,  and  this  thought  would  have  marred  my  life.  Now 
that  I  see  you  in  a  position  in  which  I  am  sure  you  will 
foe  successful,  and  which  is  an  honorable  and  pleasant 
one,  I  shall  the  more  enjoy  my  rise  when  it  comes.  Does 
any  one  else  know  of  it?"  he  asked  as  they  went  on  their 
way. 

"No  one, "  she  said.  "Who  should  know  it  before 
you?" 

"Harry  will  be  as  glad  as  I  am,"  he  said,  remember- 
ing his  friend's  late  assertion. 

"Yes,  Harry  will  be  very  glad,  too,"  Nelly  said;  but 
Jack  felt  that  Harry's  opinion  was  of  comparatively  litfla 
importance  in  her  eyes.  "He  is  a  good  honest  fellow  is 
Harry,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  be  pleased,  and  so  I  hope 
will  everyone. ' ' 

Jack  felt  that  the  present  moment  was  not  a  propitious 
one  for  putting  in  a  word  for  his  friend. 

Harry  Shepherd  carried  out  his  purpose.  For  two 
years  he  waited,  and  then  told  his  love  to  Nelly  Hardy 
one  bright  Sunday  afternoon  when  they  were  walking  in 
the  lane. 

"No,  Han-y,  no,"  she  said  humbly  and  sadly;  "it  can 
never  be;  do  not  ask  me,  I  am  so,  so  sorry." 

"Can  it  never  be?"  Harry  asked. 

"Never,"  the  girl  said;  "you  know  yourself,  Harry,  it 
can  never  be.  I  have  seen  this  coming  on  for  two  years 
now,  and  it  has  grieved  me  so ;  but  you  know,  I  am  sura 
you  know,  why  it  cannot  be." 

"I  know,"  the  young  fellow  said.  "I  have  always 
known  that  you  cared  for  Jack  a  thousand  times  mora 
than  for  me,  and  it's  quite  natural,  for  he  is  worth  a 
thousand  of  me;  but  then,  then — "  and  he  hesitated. 

"But  then,"  she  went  on,  "Jack  does  not  love  me,  and 


FACING  DEATH.  175 

you  do.  That  is  so,  Harry ;  but  since  I  was  a  child  I 
have  loved  him.  I  know,  none  better,  that  he  never 
thought  of  me  except  as  a  friend,  that  he  scarcely  con- 
sidered me  as  a  girl.  I  have  never  thought  that  it  would 
be  otherwise.  I  could  hardly  wish  that  it  were.  Jack 
will  rise  to  be  a  great  man,  and  must  marry  a  lady;  but," 
ehe  said  steadfastly,  "I  can  go  on  loving  him  till  I  die." 

"I  have  not  hoped  much,  Nelly,  but  remember  always, 
that  I  have  always  cared  for  you.  Since  j^ou  first  became 
Jack's  friend  I  have  cared  for  you.  If  he  had  loved  you 
I  could  even  stand  aside  and  be.  glad  to  see  you  both 
happy,  but  I  have  known  always  that  this  could  never  be. 
Jack's  mind  was  ever  so  much  given  up  to  study,  he  is 
not  like  us,  and  does  not  dream  of  a  house  and  love  till 
he  has  made  his  mark  in  the  world.  Remember  only 
that  I  love  you  as  you  love  Jack,  and  shall  love  as  faith- 
fully. Some  day,  perhaps,  long  hence,"  he  added  as 
Nelly  shook  her  head,  "you  may  not  think  differently, 
but  may  come  to  see  that  it  is  better  to  make  one  man's 
life  happy  than  to  cling  forever  to  the  remembrance  of 
another.  At  any  rate  you  will  always  think  of  me  ac 
your  true  friend,  Nelly,  always  trust  me?" 

"Always,  Harry,  in  the  future  more  than  lately,  for  I 
have  seen  this  coming.  Now  that  we  understand  each 
other  we  can  be  quite  friends  again. ' ' 


i76  FACING  DEA  TB. 


CHAPTER  XXm. 

THE  EXPLOSION  AT  THE  VAUGHAN. 

At  twelve  o'clock  on  a  bright  summer  day  Mr.  Brook 
drove  up  in  his  dogcart,  vpith  two  gentlemen,  to  the 
Vaughan  mine.  One  was  the  government  inspector  of 
the  district;  the  other,  a  newly  appointed  deputy  in- 
spector whom  he  was  taking  his  rounds  with  him,  to 
instruct  in  his  duties. 

"I  am  very  sorry  that  Thompson,  my  manager,  is  av.ay 
to-day,"  Mr.  Brook  said  as  they  alighted.  "Had  I 
known  you  were  coming  I  would  of  course  have  had  him 
in  readiness  to  go  round  with  you.  Is  "Williams,  the 
underground  manager,  in  the  pit?"  he  asked  the  bank- 
man,  whose  duty  it  was  to  look  after  the  ascending  and 
descending  cage. 

"No,  sir;  he  came  up  about  half  an  hour  ago.  Wat- 
kins,  the  viewer,  is  below." 

"He  must  do,  then,"  Mr.  Brook  said,  "but  I  wish  Mr. 
Thompson  had  been  here.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to 
look  at  the  plan  of  the  pit  before  you  go  down?  la 
"Williams'  office  open?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  the  bankman  answered. 

Mr.  Brook  led  the  way  to  the  office. 

"Hullo!"  he  said,  seeing  a  young  man  at  work  making 
B  copy  of  a  mining  plan ;  "who  are  you?" 

The  young  man  rose — 
*   "Jack  Simpson,  sir.     I  work  below,  but'when  it's  my 


FA  C727G  B  EA  TB.  177 

Dight-shift  Mr.  Williaras  allows  mo  to  help  him  here  by 
day." 

"Ah!  I  remember  you  now,"  Mr.  Brook  said.  **Let 
me  see  what  you  are  doing.  That's  a  creditable  piece  of 
work  for  a  working  collier,  is  it  not?"  he  said,  holding 
Up  a  beautifully  executed  plan. 

Mr.  Hardinge  looked  with  surprise  at  the  draughtsman, 
a  young  man  of  some  twenty-one  or  twenty-two  with  a 
frank,  open,  pleasant  face. 

"Why,  you  don't  look  or  talk  like  a  miner,"  he  said. 

"Mr.  Merton,  the  schoolmaster  here,  was  kind  enough 
to  take  a  great  deal  of  pains  with  me,  sir." 

"Have  you  been  doing  this  sort  of  work  long?"  Mr. 
Hardinge  asked,  pointing  to  the  plan. 

"About  three  or  four  years,"  Mr.  Brook  said  promptly. 

Jack  looked  immensely  surprised. 

Mr.  Brook  smiled. 

"I  noticed  an  extraordinary  change  in  Williams'  re- 
ports, both  in  the  handwriting  and  expression.  Now  I 
understand  it.  You  work  in  the  same  stall  as  Haden,  do 
you  not?" 

"Yes,  sir,  but  not  the  same  shift;  he  had  a  mate  he 
has  worked  with  ever  since  my  father  was  killed,  so  I 
worked  the  other  shift  with  Harvey." 

"Now  let  us  look  at  the  plans  of  the  pit,"  Mr.  Hard- 
inge said. 

The  two  inspectors  bent  over  the  table  and  examined 
the  plans,  asking  a  question  of  Mr.  Brook  now  and  then. 

Jack  had  turned  to  leave  when  Lis  employer  ceased  to 
speak  to  him,  but  Mr.  Brook  made  a  motion  to  him  to 
stay.  What  is  the  size  of  your  furnace,  Mr.  Brook?" 
asked  Mr.  Hardinge. 

"It's  an  eight-foot  furnace,"  Mr.  Brook  replied. 

"Do  you  know  how  many  thousand  cubic  feet  of  air  a 
ix.inute  you  pass?" 


178  FACING  D:n:ATB.. 

Mr.  Brook  shook  Lis  head :  be  left  the  management  of 
fche  mine  entirely  in  the  hands  of  his  manager. 

Mr.  Hardinge  had  happened  to  look  at  Jack  as  ha 
spoke;  and  the  latter,  thinking  the  question  was  ad- 
dressed to  him,  answered : 

"About  eight  thousand  feet  a  minute,  sir," 

"How  did  you  know?"  Mr.  Hardinge  asked. 

"By  taking  the  velocity  of  the  air,  sir,  and  the  area  oi 
the  downcast  shaft." 

"How  would  you  measure  the  velocity',  theoretically?" 
Mr.  Hardinge  asked,  curious  to  see  how  much  the  young 
collier  knew. 

"I  should  require  to  know  the  temperature  of  the 
shafts  respectively  and  the  height  of  the  upcast  shaft." 

"How  could  you  do  it  then?" 

"The  formula,  sir,  is  if=YJj7j/^  being  the  height  of 
the  upcast,  t'  its  temperature,  t  the  temperature  of  tha 
exterior  air,  and  x=t' — 32*  degrees." 

"You  are  a  strange  young  fellow,"  Mr.  Hardinge  said. 
*'May  I  ask  you  a  question  or  two?" 

"Certainly,  sir." 

"Could  you  work  out  the  cube-root  of  say  999,888,- 
777?" 

Jack  closed  his  eyes  for  a  minute  and  then  gave  the 
correct  answer  to  five  places  of  decimals. 

The  three  gentlemen  gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"How  on  earth  did  you  do  that?"  Mr.  Hardinge  ex- 
olaimed.  "It  would  take  me  ten  minutes  to  work  it  out 
on  paper." 

"I  accustomed  myself  to  calculate  while  I  was  in  the 
dark,  or  working,"  Jack  said  quietly. 

"Why,  you  would  rival  Bidder  himself,"  Mr.  Har- 
dinge said;  "and  how  far  have  you  worked  up  in 
figures?" 


FACING  DEATH.  Ti^ 

**I  did  the  differential  calculus,  sir,  and  then  Mi'. 
Merton  said  that  I  had  better  stick  to  the  mechanical 
application  of  mathematics  instead  of  going  on  any 
further;  that  was  two  years  ago." 

The  surprise  of  the  three  gentlemen  at  this  simple 
avowal  from  a  young  pitman  was  unbounded. 

Then  Mr.  Haidinge  said : 

"We  must  talk  of  this  again  later  on.  Now  let  us  i,-;© 
down  the  pit;  this  young  man  will  do  excellently  well 
for  a  guide.  But  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Brook,  that  I  shall 
have  to  trouble  you  a  good  deal.  As  far  as  I  can  see 
from  the  plan  the  mine  is  very  badly  laid  out,  and  the 
ventilation  altogether  defective.  "What  is  your  opinion  ?" 
he  asked,  turning  abruptly  to  Jack,  and  wishing  to  see 
whether  his  practical  knowledge  at  all  corresponded  with 
his  theoretical  acquirements. 

"I  would  rather  not  say,  sir,"  Jack  said.  "It  is  not 
for  me  to  express  an  opinion  as  to  Mr.  Thompson's  plan." 

"Let  us  have  your  ideas,"  Mr.  Brook  said.  *'Juat  tell 
us  frankly  what  you  would  do  if  you  were  manager  of 
the  Vaughan?" 

Jack  turned  to  the  plan. 

"I  should  widen  the  airways,  and  split  the  current; 
that  would  raise  the  number  of  cubic  feet  of  air  to  about 
twelve  thousand  a  minute.  It  is  too  far  for  a  single  cur- 
rent to  travel,  especially  as  the  airways  are  not  wide; 
the  friction  is  altogether  too  great.  I  should  put  a  split 
in  here,  take  a  current  round  through  the  old  workings 
to  keep  them  clear,  widen  these  passages,  split  the  cur- 
rent again  here,  and  then  make  a  cut  through  this  new 
ground  so  as  to  take  a  strong  current  to  sweep  the  face  of 
the  main  workings,  and  carry  it  off  straight  to  the  upcast. 
But  that  current  ought  not  to  pass  through  the  furnace, 
but  be  let  in  above,  for  the  gas  comes  off  very  thick 


180  FACING  DEATH. 

sometimes,  and  might  not  be  diluted  enough  with  ai?, 
going  straight  to  the  furnaces." 

"Your  ideas  are  very  good,  "Mr.  Hardingesaid  quietly. 
"Now  we  will  get  into  our  clothes  and  go  below." 

So  saying  he  opened  a  bag  and  took  out  two  mining 
suits  of  clothes,  which,  first  taking  off  their  coats,  he 
and  his  companion  proceeded  to  put  on  over  their  other 
garments.  Mr.  Brook  went  into  his  office,  and  similarlj' 
prepared  himself;  while  Jack,  who  was  not  dressed  for 
mining,  went  to  the  closet  where  a  few  suits  were  hung 
up  for  the  use  of  visitors  and  others,  and  prepared  to  go 
down.  Then  he  went  to  the  lamp  room  and  fetched  four 
Davy  lamps.  While  he  was  away  Mr.  Brook  joined  the 
inspectors. 

"That  young  pitman  is  as  steady  as  he  is  clever,"  he 
said;  "he  has  come  several  times  under  vay  attention. 
In  the  first  place,  the  schoolmaster  has  spoken  to  me  of 
the  lad's  efforts  to  educate  himself.  Then  he  saved  an- 
other boy's  life  at  the  risk  of  his  own,  and  of  late  years 
his  steadiness  and  good  conduct  have  given  him  a  great 
influence  over  his  comrades  of  the  same  age,  and  have 
effected  great  things  for  the  place.  The  vicar  and 
schoolmaster  now  are  never  tired  of  praising  him." 

"He  is  clearly  an  extraordinary  young  fellow,"  Mr. 
Hardinge  said.  "Do  you  know  his  suggestions  are 
exactly  what  I  had  intended  to  offer  to  you  myself?  Tea 
will  have  some  terrible  explosion  here  unless  you  make 
some  radical  changes." 

That  evening  the  inspectors  stayed  for  the  night  at 
Mr.  Brook's,  and  the  next  day  that  gentleman  went  over 
with  them  to  Birmingham,  where  he  had  some  business. 
His  principal  object,  however,  was  to  take  them  to  see 
Mr.  Merton,  to  question  him  further  with  regard  to  Jack 
Simpson, 


FACING  DEATH.  181 

"Mr.  Merton  related  to  bis  visitors  the  history  of  Jack'a 
efforts  to  educate  himself,  and  gave  them  the  opinion  ho 
had  given  the  lad  himself,  that  he  might,  had  ho  chosen, 
have  taken  a  scholarship  and  then  the  highest  mathemat- 
ical honors.  "He  has  been  working  lately  at  engineer- 
ing, and  calculating  the  strains  and  stresses  of  iron 
bridges,"  he  said.  "And  now,  Mr.  Brook,  I  will  tell 
you — and  I  am  sure  that  you  and  these  gentlemen  will 
give  me  your  promise  of  secrecy  upon  the  subject — what 
I  have  never  3'et  told  to  a  soul.  It  was  that  lad  who 
brought  me  word  of  the  intended  attack  on  the  engines, 
and  got  me  to  write  the  letter  to  Sir  John  Butler.  But 
that  is  not  all,  sir.  It  was  that  boy — for  he  was  but 
seventeen  then — who  defended  your  engine  house  against 
the  mob  of  five  hundred  men!" 

"Bless  my  heart,  Merton,  why  did  you  not  tell  me  be- 
fore? Wh3%  I've  puzzled  over  that  ever  since.  And  to 
think  that  it  was  one  of  my  own  pit-boys  who  did  that 
gallant  act^ion,  and  I  have  done  nothing  for  him !" 

"He  would  not  have  it  told,  sir.  He  wanted  to  go  on 
as  a  working  miner,  and  learn  his  business  from  the 
bottom.  Beside,  his  life  would't  have  been  safe  in  this 
district  for  a  day  if  it  had  been  known.  But  I  think 
you  ought  to  be  told  of  it  now.  The  lad  is  as  modest  aa 
he  is  brave  and  clever,  and  would  go  to  his  grave  without 
ever  letting  out  that  he  saved  the  Vaughan,  and  indeed 
all  the  pits  in  the  district.  But  now  that  he  is  a  man, 
it  is  right  you  should  know;  but  pray  do  not  let  him 
imagine  that  you  are  aware  of  it.  He  is  very  young  yet, 
and  will  rise  on  his  own  merits,  and  would  dislike  noth- 
ing 60  much  as  thinking  that  he  owed  anything  to  what 
he  did  that  night.  I  may  tell  you  too  that  he  is  able  to 
mix  as  a  gentleman  with  gentlemen.  Ever  since  I  hava 
been  over  here  he  has  come  over  once  a  month  to  stay 


182  FACING  DEATH. 

with  me  from  Saturday  to  Monday ;  he  has  mixed  witii 
■what  I  may  call  the  best  society  in  the  town  here,  and 
has  won  the  liking  and  esteem  of  all  my  friends,  not  one 
of  whom  has  so  much  as  a  suspicion  that  he  is  not  of  the 
same  rank  of  life  as  themselves. ' ' 

"What  am  I  to  do,  Mr,  Hardinge?"  Mx.  Brook  asked 
in  perplexity.     "What  would  you  advise?" 

"I  should  give  him  his  first  lift  at  once,"  Mr.  Har- 
dinge said  decidedly.  "It  vvill  be  many  months  before 
you  have  carried  out  the  new  scheme  for  the  ventilation 
of  the  mine;  and,  believe  me,  it  will  not  be  safe,  if  there 
come  a  sudden  influx  of  gas,  till  the  alterations  are  made. 
Make  this  young  fellow  deputy  viewer,  with  special 
charge  to  look  after  the  ventilation.  In  that  way  he  Vvdli 
not  have  to  give  instruction  to  the  men  as  to  their  work, 
but  will  confine  his  attention  to  the  ventilation,  the  state 
of  the  air,  the  doors,  and  so  on.  Even  then  his  position 
will  for  a  time  be  difficult;  but  the  lad  has  plenty  of  self- 
control,  and  will  be  able  to  tide  over  it,  and  the  men 
will  get  to  see  that  he  really  understands  his  business. 
You  will  of  course  order  the  underground  manager  and 
viewers  to  give  him  every  support.  The  underground 
manager,  at  any  rate,  must  be  perfectly  aware  of  his 
capabilities,  as  he  seems  to  have  done  all  his  paper  work 
for  some  time." 

Never  were  a  body  of  men  more  astonished  than  were 
the  pitmen  of  the  Vaughan  when  they  heard  that  young 
Jack  Simpson  was  appointed  a  deputy  viewer,  with  the 
special  charge  of  the  ventilation  of  the  mine. 

A  deputy  viewer  is  not  a  position  of  great  honor;  the 
pay  is  scarcely  more  than  that  which  a  getter  will  earn, 
and  the  rank  is  scarcely  higher.  This  kind  of  post, 
indeed,  is  generally  given  to  a  miner  of  experience,  get- 
ting past  his  work — as  care,  attention,  and  knowledge 


FACING  DEATH.  133 

are  required,  rather  than  hard  work.  That  a  young  man 
should  be  appointed  was  an  anomaly  which  simply  aston- 
ished the  colliers  of  the  Vaughan.  The  affair  was  first 
known  on  the  surface,  and  as  the  men  came  up  in  the 
cages  the  news  was  told  them,  and  the  majority,  instead 
of  at  once  hurrying  home,  stopped  to  talk  it  over. 

"It  be  the  rummest  start  I  ever  heard  on,"  one   said. 

"Ahl  here  comes  Bill  Haden.  Hast  heard  t'  news. 
Bill?" 

"What  news?" 

"Why,  your  Jack's  made  a  deputy.  What  dost  think 
o'  that,  right  over  heads  o'  us  all?  Did'st  e'er  hear  tell 
o'  such  a  thing?" 

"Noa  I  didn't, "  Bill  Haden  said  emphatically.  "It's 
t'  first  time  as  e'er  I  heard  o'  t'  right  man  being  picked 
out  wi'out  a  question  o'  age.  I  know  him,  and  I  tell 
*ee,  he  mayn't  know  t'  best  place  for  putting  in  a  prop, 
or  of  timbering  in  loose  ground,  as  well  as  us  as  is  old 
enough  to  be  his  fathers;  but  he  knows  as  much  about  t' 
book  laming  of  a  mine  as  one  of  the  government  inspec- 
tor chaps.  You  mightn't  think  it  pleasant  for  me,  as 
has  stood  in  t'  place  o'  his  father,  to  see  him  put  over 
my  head,  but  I  know  how  t'  boy  has  worked,  and  I  know 
what  he  is,  and  I  tell  'ee  I'll  work  under  him  willins. 
Jack  Simpson  will  go  far;  you  as  live  will  see  it." 

Bill  Haden  was  an  authority  in  the  Vaughan  pit,  and 
hia  dictum  reconciled  many  who  might  otherwise  have 
resented  the  appointment  of  such  a  lad.  The  enthusias- 
tic approval  of  Harry  Shepherd  and  of  the  rest  of  the  other 
young  hands  in  the  mine  who  had  grown  up  with  Jack 
Simpson,  and  knew  something  of  how  hard  he  had 
worked,  and  who  had  acknowledged  his  leadership  in  ail 
things,  also  had  its  effect;  and  the  new  deputy  entered 
upon  his  duties  without  anything  like  the  discontoui 
which  might  have  been  looked  for  being  excited. 


184  FACING  DEATH. 

The  most  important  part  of  Jack's  duties  consisted  in 
going  round  the  pit  before  the  men  went  down  in  the 
morning,  to  see  that  there  was  no  accumulation  of  gas  in 
the  night,  and  that  the  Tentilation  was  going  on  properly. 
The  deputy  usually  takes  a  helper  with  him,  and  Jack 
had  chosen  his  friend  Harry  for  the  post — as  in  the  event 
of  finding  gas  it  has  to  be  dispersed  by  beating  it  with 
an  empty  sack,  so  as  to  cause  a  disturbance  of  the  air, 
or,  if  the  accumulation  be  important,  by  putting  up  a 
temporary  bratticing,  or  partition,  formed  of  cotton  cloth 
stretched  on  a  framework,  in  such  a  way  as  to  turn  a 
strong  current  of  air  across  the  spot  where  the  gas  is 
accumulating,  or  from  which  it  is  issuing.  The  gas  is 
visible  to  the  eye  as  a  sort  of  dull  fog  or  smoke.  If  the 
accumulation  is  serious,  the  main  body  of  miners  are  not 
allowed  to  descend  into  the  mine  until  the  viewer  has, 
with  assistance,  succeeded   in   completely  dispersing  it. 

"It's  a  lonesome  feeling,"  Harry  said  the  first  morn- 
ing that  he  entered  upon  his  duties  with  Jack  Simpson, 
*'to  think  that  we  be  the  only  two  down  here." 

"It's  no  more  lonesome  than  sitting  in  the  dark  wait- 
ing for  the  tubs  to  come  along,  Harry,  and  it's  far  safer. 
There  is  not  the  slightest  risk  of  an  explosion  now,  for 
there  are  only  our  safetj'-lamps  down  here,  while  in  the 
day  the  men  will  open  their  lamps  to  light  their  pipes; 
make  what  regulations  the  master  may,  the  men  will 
break  them  to  get  a  smoke." 

Upon  the  receipt  of  Mr.  Hardinge's  official  report, 
strongly  condemning  the  arrangements  in  the  Vaughan, 
Mr.  Brook  at  once  appointed  a  new  manager  in  the  place 
of  Mr.  Thompson,  and  upon  his  arrival  he  made  him 
acquainted  with  the  extent  of  Jack's  knowledge  and 
ability,  and  requested  him  to  keep  his  eye  especially 
upon  him,  and  to  employ  him,  as  far  as  possible,  as  his 
right-hand  man  in  carrying  out  his  orders. 


FACING  DEATH.  185 

*'I  wish  that  main  wind  drift  were  through,"  Jack 
Eaid  one  day,  six  months  after  his  appointment,  as  he 
was  sitting  over  his  tea  with  Bill  Haden.  "The  gas  ia 
coming  in  very  bad  in  the  new  workings." 

"Wuss  nor  I  ever  knew't.  Jack.  It's  a  main  good  job 
that  the  furnace  was  made  bigger,  and  some  o'  th'  air- 
ways widened,  for  it  does  come  out  sharp  surely.  In 
th'  old  part  where  I  be,  a'  don't  notice  it;  but  when  I 
went  down  yesterday  where  Peter  Jones  be  working,  tho 
gas  was  just  whistling  out  of  a  blower  close  by." 

"Another  fortnight,  and  the  airway  will  be  through, 
dad,  and  that  will  make  a  great  change.  I  shall  be  very 
glad,  for  the  pit's  in  a  bad  state  now." 

"Ah!  thou  think'st  a  good  deal  of  it  Jack,  because 
thou'st  got  part  of  the  'sponsibility  of  it.  It  don't  fret 
me." 

"I  wish  the  men  wouldn't  smoke,  dad;  I  don't  want 
to  get  a  bad  name  for  reporting  them,  but  it's  just  play- 
ing with  their  lives." 

Bill  Haden  was  silent;  he  was  given  to  indulge  in  a 
quiet  smoke  himself,  as  Jack,  working  with  him  for  five 
years,  well  knew. 

"Well,  Jack,  thou  know'st  there's  a  craving  for  a  draw 
or  two  of  bacca." 

"So  there  is  for  a  great  many  other  things  that  wa 
have  to  do  without,"  Jack  said.  "If  it  were  only  a 
question  of  a  man  blowing  himself  to  pieces  I  should  say 
naught  about  it;  but  it  is  whether  he  is  willing  to  make 
five  hundred  widows  and  two  thousand  orphans  rather 
than  go  for  a  few  hours  without  smoking.  What  is  tlie 
use  of  Davy  lamps?  What  is  the  use  of  all  our  care  as 
to  the  ventilation,  if  at  any  moment  the  gas  maj'  be  fired 
at  a  lamp  opened  for  lighting  a  pipe?  I  like  my  pipe, 
but  if  I  thought  there  was  ever  any  chance  of  its  becom- 
ing my  master  I  would  never  touch  tobacco  again." 


186  FACING  DEATH. 

Three  days  later,  when  Jack  came  up  from  his  rounds 
at  ten  o'clock,  to  eat  his  breakfaot  and  write  up  his  jour- 
nal of  the  state  of  the  mine,  he  saw  Mr.  Brook  and  the 
manager  draw  up  to  the  pit  mouth.  Jack  shrank  back 
from  the  little  window  of  the  office  where  he  was  writ- 
ing, and  did  not  look  out  again  until  he  knew  that  they 
had  descended  the  mine,  as  he  did  not  wish  to  have  any 
appearance  of  thrusting  himself  forward.  For  another 
hour  he  wrote;  and  then  the  window  of  the  office  fiew  in 
pieces,  the  chairs  danced,  and  the  walls  rocked,  while  a 
dull,  heavy  roar,  like  distant  thunder,  burst  upon  his 
ears. 

He  leaped  to  his  feet  and  rushed  to  the  door.  Black 
smoke  was  pouring  up  from  the  pit's  mouth,  sticks  and 
pieces  of  wood  and  coal  were  falling  in  a  shower  in  the 
yard;  and  Jack  saw  that  his  worst  anticipations  had  been 
realized,  and  that  a  terrible  explosion  had  taken  place  in 
the  Yaugban  pit. 


FACma  DEATH,  J8? 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

IN  DEADLY  PERU,. 

For  a  moment  Jack  stood  stunned  by  the  calamity. 
There  were,  he  knew,  over  three  hundred  men  and  boys 
in  the  pit,  and  he  turned  faint  and  sick  as  the  thought 
of  their  fate  came  acrosa  him.  Then  he  ran  toward  the 
top  of  the  shaft.  The  baukman  lay  insensible  at  a  dis- 
tance of  some  yards  from  the  pit,  where  he  had  been 
thrown  by  the  force  of  the  explosion.  Two  or  three  men 
came  running  up  with  white,  scared  faces.  The  smoke 
bad  nearly  ceased  already ;  the  damage  was  done,  and  a 
deadb"  stillness  seemed  to  reign. 

Jack  ran  into  the  engine-house.  The  engine-man  was 
leaning  against  a  wall,  scared  and  almost  fainting. 

"Are  you  hurt,  John?" 

"No!" 

"Pull  yourself  round,  man.  The  first  thing  is  to  see 
if  the  lift  is  all  right.  I  see  one  of  the  cages  is  at  bank, 
and  the  force  of  the  esplosion  is  in  the  upcast  shaft. 
Just  give  a  turn  or  two  to  the  engine  and  see  if  the  wind- 
ing gear's  all  right.     Slowly." 

The  engine-man  turned  on  the  steam ;  there  was  a 
slight  movement,  and  then  the  engine  stopped. 

"A  little  more  steam,"  Jack  said.  "The  cage  has 
caught,  but  it  may  come." 

There  was  a  jerk,  and  then  the  engine  began  to  work. 

"That   is   all   right,"  Jack   said,  "whether  the  lower 


188  FACING  DEATH. 

cage  is  on  or  rt.ot.  Stop  now,  and  wind  it  back,  and  get 
the  cage  up  again.     Does  the  bell  act,  I  wonder?" 

Jack  pulled  the  wire  which,  when  in  order,  struck  a 
bell  at  the  bottom  of  the  shaft,  and  then  looked  at  a  bell 
hanging  over  his  head  for  the  answer.     None  came. 

"I  expect  the  wire's  broke,"  Jack  said,  and  went  out 
to  the  pit's  mouth  again. 

The  surface  men  were  all  gathered  round  now,  the 
tipmen,  and  the  yardmen,  and  those  from  the  coke  ovens, 
all  looking  wild  and  pale. 

"I  am  going  down,"  Jack  said;  "we  may  find  some 
poor  fellows  near  the  bottom,  and  can't  wait  till  some 
headman  comes  on  the  ground.  Who  will  go  with  me? 
I  don't  want  any  married  men,  for  you  know,  lads,  there 
may  be  another  blow  at  any  moment." 

"I  will  go  with  you,"  one  of  the  yardmen  said,  stop- 
ping forward;  "there's  no  one  dependent  on  me." 

"I,  too,"  said  another;  "it's  no  odds  to  any  one  but 
myself  whether  I  come  up  again  or  not.  Here's  with 
you,  whatever  comes  of  it." 

Jack  brought  three  safety-lamps  from  the  lamp-room, 
and  took  his  place  iu  the  cage  with  the  two  volunteers. 

"Lower  away,"  he  shouted,  "but  go  very  slow  when 
we  get  near  the  bottom,  and  look  out  for  our  signal." 

It  was  but  three  minutes  from  the  moment  that  tlie 
cage  began  to  sink  to  that  when  it  touched  the  bottom  of 
the  shaft,  but  it  seemed  an  age  to  those  in  it.  They 
knew  that  at  any  moment  a  second  explosion  might 
come,  and  that  they  might  be  driven  far  up  into  the  nir 
above  the  top  of  the  shaft,  mere  scorched  fragments  cf 
flesh.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  during  the  descent,  nrid 
there  was  a  general  exclamation  of  "Thank  God!"  w]:cn 
they  felt  the  cage  touch  the  bottom. 

Jack,  as  an  ofiQcial  of  the  mine,  and  by  virtue  of  eupo» 
rior  energy,  at  once  took  the  lead. 


FACING  DEATH.  189 

"Now,"  ha  said,  "let  ua  push  straight  up  the  main 
road." 

Just  as  they  stepped  out  they  came  across  the  bodies 
of  two  men,  and  stooped  over  them  with  their  lamps. 

"Both  dead,"  Jack  said;  "we  can  do  naught  for 
them." 

A  little  way  on,  and  in  a  heap  were  some  wagons, 
thrown  together  and  broken  up,  the  body  of  a  pony,  and 
that  of  the  lad,  his  driver.  Then  they  came  to  the  first 
door — a  door  no  longer,  not  a  fragment  of  it  remaining. 
In  the  door-boy's  niche  the  lad  lay  in  a  heap.  They 
bent  over  him. 

"He  is  alive,"  Jack  said.  "Will  you  two  carry  him 
to  the  cage?  I  will  look  round  and  see  if  there  is  any 
one  else  about  here;  beyond,  this  way,  there  is  no  hope. 
Make  haste!  Look  how  the  gas  is  catching  inside  the 
lamps,  the  place  is  full  of  fire-damp." 

The  men  took  up  the  lad,  and  turned  to  go  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  shaft.  Jack  looked  a  few  yards  down  a  cross- 
road, and  then  followed  them.  He  was  in  the  act  of 
turning  into  the  next  road  to  glance  at  that  also,  when 
he  felt  a  suck  of  air. 

"Down  on  your  faces!"  he  shouted,  and  springing  a 
couple  of  paces  further  up  the  crossroad,  threw  himself 
on  his  face. 


190  WAGING  D'^ATE. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE     IMPRISONED     MINERS. 

There  was  a  mighty  roar — a  thundering  sound,  as  of 
an  express  train — a  blinding  light,  and  a  scorching  heat. 
Jack  felt  himself  lifted  from  the  ground  by  the  force  of 
the  blast,  and  dashed  down  again. 

Then  he  knew  it  was  over,  and  staggered  to  his  feet. 
The  force  of  the  explosion  had  passed  along  the  main 
road,  and  so  up  the  shaft,  and  he  owed  his  life  to  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  in  the  road  off  the  course.  He  re- 
turned into  the  main  road,  but  near  the  bottom  of  the 
shaft  he  was  brought  to  a  standstill.  The  roof  had 
fallen,  and  the  passage  was  blocked  with  fragments  of 
rock  and  broken  wagons.  He  knew  that  the  bottom  of 
the  shaft  must  be  partly  filled  up,  that  his  comrades 
were  killed,  and  that  there  was  no  hope  of  escape  in  that 
direction.  For  a  moment  he  paused  to  consider;  then, 
turning  up  the  side  road  to  the  left,  he  ran  at  full  speed 
from  the  shaft.  He  knew  that  the  danger  now  was  not 
so  much  from  the  fire-damp — the  explosive  gas — as  from 
the  even  more  dreaded  choke-damp,  which  surely  follows 
after  an  explosion  and  the  cessation  of  ventilation. 

Many  more  miners  are  killed  by  this  choke-dami),  aa 
they  hasten  to  the  bottom  of  the  shaft  after  an  explosion, 
than  by  the  fire  itself.  Choke-damp,  which  is  carbonic 
acid  gas,  is  heavier  than  ordinary  air,  and  thus  the  lowest 
parts  of  a  colliery  become  first  filled  with  it,  as  they 


FACING  DEATH.  IGI 

would  with  water.  In  all  coal-mines  there  is  a  slight, 
sometimes  a  considerable,  inclination,  or  "dip,"  as  it  is 
called,  of  the  otherwise  flat  bed  of  coal.  The  shaft  is 
almost  always  sunk  at  the  lower  end  of  the  area  owned 
hy  the  proprietors  of  the  mine,  as  by  this  means  the 
whole  pit  naturally  drains  to  the  "sump,"  or  well,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  shaft,  whence  it  is  pumped  up  by  the 
engine  above ;  the  loaded  wagons,  too,  are  run  down  from 
the  workings  to  the  bottom  of  the  shaft  with  comparative 
ease. 

The  explosion  had,  as  Jack  well  knew,  destroyed  all 
tho  doors  which  direct  the  currents  of  the  air,  and  the 
ventilation  had  entirely  ceased.  The  lower  part  of  the 
mine,  where  the  explosion  had  been  strongest,  would 
soon  be  filled  with  choke-damp,  the  product  of  the  ex- 
plosion, and  Jack  was  making  for  the  old  workings,  near 
the  upper  boundary  line  of  the  pit.  There  the  air  would 
remain  pure  long  after  it  had  been  vitiated  elsewhere. 

It  was  in  this  quarter  of  the  mine  that  Bill  Haden  and 
Bome  twenty  other  colliers  worked. 

Presently  Jack  saw  lights  ahead,  and  head  a  clattering 
of  steps.  It  was  clear  that,  as  he  had  hoped,  the  miners 
working  there  had  escaped  the  force  of  the  explosion, 
which  had,  without  doubt,  played  awful  havoc  in  the 
parts  of  the  mine  where  the  greater  part  of  the  men  were 
at  work, 

"Stop!  stop!"  Jack  shouted,  as  they  came  up  to  him. 

"Is  it  fire,  Jack?"  Bill  Haden,  who  was  one  of  the  first, 
asked. 

"Yes,  Bill;  didn't  you  feel  it?" 

"Some  of  us  thought  we  felt  a  suck  of  air  a  quarter 
hour  since,  but  we  weren't  sure;  and  then  came  another, 
which  blew  out  the  lights.  Come  along,  lad;  there  is  no 
time  for  talking." 


19^  FACmO-  DEATH, 

"It's  of  no  use  going'  on,"  Jack  said;  "the  shaft's 
choked  up.  I  came  down  after  the  first  blow,  and  I  fear 
there's  no  living  soul  in  the  new  workings.  By  thia 
time  they  must  be  full  of  the  choke-damp." 

The  men  looked  at  each  other  with  blank  faces. 

"Hast  seen  Brook?"  Jack  asked  eagerly. 

"Ay,  he  passed  our  stall  with  Johnstone  ten  minutes 
ago,  just  before  the  blast  came." 

"We  may  catch  him  in  time  to  stop  him  yet, "  Jack 
said,  "if  he  has  gone  round  to  look  at  the  walling  of  the 
old  goafs.     There  are  three  men  at  work  there. " 

"I'll  go  with  you,  Jack,"  Bill  Haden  said.  "Our  best 
place  is  my  stall,  lads,"  he  went  on,  turning  to  the 
others;  "that  is  pretty  well  the  highest  ground  in  tho 
pit,  and  the  air  will  keep  good  there  as  long  as  anywhere 
— maybe  till  help  comes.  You  come  along  of  us  mate, " 
he  said,  turning  to  the  man  who  worked  with  him  in  his 
stall. 

As  they  hurried  along.  Jack,  in  a  few  words,  told  what 
had  taken  place,  as  far  as  he  knew  it.  Five  minutes*  run 
brought  them  to  the  place  where  the- masons  were  at 
work  walling  up  the  entrance  to  some  old  workings. 
They  looked  astonished  at  the  newcomers. 

"Have  you  seen  the  gaffers?" 

"Ay,  they  ha'  just  gone  on.  There,  don't  you  see 
their  lights  down  the  heading?  No?  well  I  saw 'em  a 
moment  since." 

"Come  along, "  Jack  said.  "Quick!  I  expect-they've 
met  it." 

At  full  speed  they  hurried  along.  Presently  they  all 
stopped  short;  the  lights  burned  low,  and  a  choking 
sensation  came  on  them. 

"Back,  Jack,  for  your  life!"  gasped  Bill  Haden;  but 
at  that  moment  Jack's  feet  struck  something  which  ha 
knew  was  a  body. 


FACINQ  DEATH.  193 

"Down  at  my  feet;  help!"  he  cried. 

He  stooped  and  tried  to  raise  tho  body.  Then  the  last 
gleam  of  his  light  went  out — his  lungs  seemed  to  cease 
acting,  and  he  saw  no  more. 

"When  he  came  to  himself  again  he  was  being  carried 
on  Bill  Haden's  shoulder. 

"All  right,  dad,"  he  said.  "I  am  coming  round  now; 
put  me  down." 

"That's  a  good  job.  Jack.  I  thought  thou'd'st  scarce 
come  round  again." 

"Have  you  got  either  of  the  others?" 

"We've  got  Brook;  you'd  your  arm  round  him  so  tight 
that  Ned  and  I  lifted  you  together.  He's  on  ahead;  the 
masons  are  carrying  him,  and  Ned's  showing  the  way. 
Canst  walk  now?" 

"Yes,  I'm  better  now.  How  did  you  manage  to 
breathe,  dad?" 

"We  didn't  breathe.  Jack;  we're  too  old  hands  for 
that.  When  we  saw  you  fall  we  just  drew  back,  took  a 
breath,  and  then  shut  our  mouths,  and  went  down  for 
you  just  the  same  as  if  we'd  been  a-groping  for  you 
under  water.  We  got  hold  of  you  both,  lifted  you  up, 
and  carried  you  along  as  far  as  we  could  before  we  drew 
a  breath  again.  You're  sharp.  Jack,  but  you  don't  know 
everything  yet. "  And  Bill  Haden  chuckled  to  find  that 
for  once  his  practical  experience  taught  him  something 
that  Jack  had  not  learned  from  his  books. 

Jack  now  hurried  along  after  Bill  Haden,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  reached  the  place  fixed  upon.  Here  the  miners 
were  engaged  in  restoring  consciousness  to  Mr.  Brook, 
who,  under  the  influence  of  water  dashed  on  his  face  and 
artificial  respiration  set  up  by  alternately  pressing  upon 
the  chest  and  allowing  it  to  rise  again,  was  just  begin- 
ning to  show  signs  of  life.     Their  interest  in  their  em- 


194  FACING  DEATH. 

ploymenfc  was  so  great  that  it  v/as  not  until  Mr.  Brook 
was  able  to  sit  up  that  they  began  to  talk  about  tha 
future. 

Jack's  account  of  the  state  of  things  near  the  shaft  wa3 
listened  to  gravely.  The  fact  that  the  whole  of  tha 
system  of  ventilation  had  been  deranged,  and  the  proof 
given  by  the  second  explosion  that  the  mine  was  some- 
where on  fire,  needed  no  comment  to  these  experienced 
men.  It  sounded  their  death-knell.  Gallant  and  unceas- 
ing as  would  be  the  efforts  made  under  any  other  circum- 
stance to  rescue  them,  the  fact  that  the  pit  was  on  fire, 
and  that  fresh  explosions  might  at  any  moment  take 
place,  would  render  it  an  act  of  simple  madness  for  their 
friends  above  to  endeavor  to  clear  the  shaft  and  head- 
ings, and  to  restore  the  ventilation.  The  fact  was 
further  impressed  upon  them  by  a  sudden  and  simul- 
taneous flicker  of  the  lamps,  and  a  faint  shake,  followed 
by  a  distant  rumble. 

"Another  blast,"  Bill  Haden  said.  "That  settles  us, 
lads.  We  may  as  well  turn  out  all  the  lamps  but  two,  so 
as  to  have  light  as  long  as  we  last  out." 

"Is  there  no  hope?"  Mr.  Brook  asked  presently,  com- 
ing forward  after  he  had  heard  from  Haden 's  mate  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  been  so  far  saved. 

"Not  a  scrap,  master,"  said  Bill  Haden.  "We  are 
like  rats  in  a  trap;  and  it  would  ha'  been  kinder  of  us  if 
we'd  a  let  you  lay  as  you  was." 

**Your  intention  was  equally  kind,"  Mr.  Brook  said. 
*'But  is  there  nothing  that  we  can  do?" 

"Nowt, "  Bill  Haden  said.  "We  have  got  our  dinners 
•wi'  us,  and  might  make  'em  last,  a  mouthful  at  a  time, 
to  keep  life  in  us  for  a  week  or  more.  But  what  'ud  be 
th'  use  of  it?  It  may  be  weeks — ay,  or  months — before 
they  can  stifle  the  fire  and  make  their  way  here." 


FACING  DEATH.  1C5 

"Can  you  suggest  nothing,  Jack?"  Mr.  Brook  asked. 
"You  are  the  only  oflScer  of  the  pit  loft  new,"  ho 
added  with  a  faint  smile. 

Jack  had  not  spoken  since  he  reached  the  stall,  but 
had  sat  down  on  a  block  of  coal,  with  his  elbows  on  his 
knees,  and  his  chin  on  his  hands — a  favorite  attitude  of 
his  when  thinking  deeply. 

The  other  colliers  had  thrown  themselves  down  on  the 
ground;  some  sobbed  occasionally  as  they  thought  of 
their  loved  ones  above,  some  laj'-  in  silence. 

Jack  answered  the  appeal  by  rising  to  his  feot. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  think  we  may  do  something." 

The  men  raised  themselves  in  surprise. 

"In  the  first  place,  sir,  I  should  send  men  in  each 
direction  to  see  how  near  the  choke-damp  has  got. 
There  are  four  roads  by  which  it  could  come  up.  I 
would  shut  the  doors  on  this  side  of  the  place  it  has  got 
to,  roil  blocks  of  coal  and  rubbish  to  keep  'em  tight,  and 
stop  up  the  chinks  with  wet  mud.  That  will  keep  the 
gas  from  coming  up,  and  there  is  air  enough  in  the  stalls 
and  headings  to  last  us  a  long  time." 

"Cut  that  would  only  prolong  our  lives  for  a  few  hours, 
Jack,  and  I  don't  know  that  that  would  be  any  advantage, 
better  to  be  choked  by  the  gas  than  to  die  of  starvation," 
Mr.  Brook  said,  and  a  murmur  from  the  men  showed 
that  they  agreed  with  him. 

"I  vote  for  lighting  our  pipes,"  one  of  the  miners 
said.  "If  there  is  fiery  gas  here,  it  would  be  better  to 
finish  with  it  at  once." 

There  was  a  general  expression  of  approval. 

"Wait!"  Jack  said,  authoritatively;  "wait  till  I  havo 
done.  You  know,  Mr  Brook,  we  are  close  to  our  north 
boundary  here,  in  some  places  within  a  very  few  yards. 
Now    the   'Logan,'   which    lies  next  to  us,    has   been 


196  FACING  DEATH. 

worked  out  years  ago.  Of  course  it  is  full  of  water,  and 
it  was  from  fear  of  tapping  that  water  that  the  works 
were  stopped  here.  A  good  deal  comes  in  through  the 
crevices  in  No.  15  stall,  which  I  expect  is  nearest  to  it. 
Now  if  we  could  work  into  the  'Logan,'  the  water  would 
rush  down  into  our  workings,  and  as  our  pit  ia  a  good 
deal  bigger  than  the  'Logan'  ever  was  it  will  fill  the 
lower  workings  and  put  out  the  fire,  but  won't  reach 
here.  Then  we  can  get  up  through  the  'Logan'  where 
the  air  is  sure  to  be  all  right,  as  the  water  will  bring 
good  air  down  with  it.  "We  may  not  do  it  in  time,  but 
it  is  a  chance.     "What  do  you  say,  sir?" 

"It  is  worth  trying,  at  any  rate,"  Mr.  Brook  said. 
"Bravo,  my  lad!  your  clear  head  may  save  us  yet." 

"By  gum,  Jack!  but  you're  a  good  un!"  Bill  Haden 
said,  bringing  down  his  hand  upon  Jack's  shoulder  with 
a  force  that  almost  knocked  him- down;  while  the  men, 
with  revived  hope,  leaped  to  their  feet,  and  crowding 
round  shook  Jack's  hand  with  exclamations  of  approval 
and  delight. 

"Now,  lads,  Mr.  Brook  said,  "Jack  Simpson  is  mas- 
ter now,  and  we  will  all  work  under  his  orders.  But  be- 
fore we  begin,  boys,  let  us  say  a  prayer.  We  are  ia 
God's  hands;  let  us  ask  His  protection." 

Every  head  was  bared,  and  the  men  stood  reverently, 
while,  in  a  few  w^ords,  Mr.  Brook  prayed  for  strength  and 
protection,  and  rescue  from  their  danger. 

"Now,  Jack,"  he  said,  when  he  had  finished,  "give 
your  orders." 

Jack  at  once  sent  off  two  men  along  each  of  the  roads 
to  find  how  near  the  choke-damp  had  approached,  and  to 
block  up  and  seal  the  doors.  It  was  necessary  to  strike 
a  light  to  relight  some  of  the  lamps,  but  this  was  a  dan- 
ger that  could  not  be  avoided. 


«^k. 


FACING  DEATH.  197 

The  rest  of  the  men  wore  sent  round  to  all  tlie  places 
where  work  had  been  going  on  to  bring  in  the  tools  and 
dinners  to  No.  15  stall,  to  which  Jack  himself.  Bill 
Haden,  and  Mr.  Brook  proceeded  at  once.  No  work  had 
been  done  there  for  j-ears.  The  floor  was  covered  with  a 
black  mud,  and  a  close  examination  of  the  face  showed 
tiny  streamlets  of  water  trickling  down  in  several  places. 
An  examination  of  the  stalls,  or  working  places,  on 
either  side,  showed  similar  appearances,  but  in  a  less 
marked  degree.  It  was  therefore  determined  to  begin 
v/ork  in  No.  15. 

"You  don't  mean  to  use  powder,  Jack?"  Bill  Haden 
asked. 

"No,  dad;  without  any  ventilation  we  should  be 
choked  with  the  smoke,  and  there  would  be  the  danger 
from  the  gas.  When  we  think  we  are  getting  near  the 
water  we  will  put  in  a  big  shot,  so  as  to  blow  in  the  face. ' ' 

When  the  men  returned  with  the  tools  and  the  din- 
ners, the  latter  done  up  in  handkerchiefs,  Jack  asked  Mr. 
Brook  to  take  charge  of  the  food. 

"There  are  just  twenty  of  us,  sir,  without  you,  and 
nineteen  dinners.  So  if  you  divide  among  us  four  din- 
ners a  day,  it  will  last  for  five  days,  and  by  that  time  I 
hope  we  shall  be  free." 

Four  men  only  could  work  at  the  face  of  the  stall  to- 
gether, and  Jack  divided  the  twenty  into  five  sets. 

"We  will  work  in  quarter-of-an-hour  shifts  at  first, " 
he  said;  "that  will  give  an  hour's  rest  to  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  work,  and  a  man  can  work  well,  we  know,  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  When  we  get  done  up,  we  will  have 
half-hour  shifts,  which  will  give  two  hours  for  a  sleep  in 
between." 

The  men  of  the  first  shift,  stripped  as  usual  to  the 
waist,  set  to  work  without  an  instant's  delay;  and  the 


198  FACING  DEATH. 

vigor  and  swiftness  with  -which  the  blows  fell  upon  tho 
face  of  the  rock  would  have  told  experienced  miners  that 
the  men  who  struck  them  were  working  for  life  or  death. 
Those  unemployed.  Jack  took  into  the  adjacent  stalls  and 
set  them  to  work  to  clear  a  narrow  strip  of  the  floor  ne:.': 
to  the  upper  wall,  then  to  cut  a  little  groove  in  the  rod  y 
floor  to  intercept  the  water  as  it  slowly  trickled  in,  and 
lead  it  to  small  hollows  which  they  were  to  make  in  tho 
solid  rock.  The  water  coming  through  the  two  stalls 
would,  thus  collected,  be  ample  for  their  wants.  Jack 
then  started  to  see  how  the  men  at  work  at  the  doors 
were  getting  on.  These  had  already  nearly  finished  their 
tasks.  On  the  road  leading  to  the  main  workings  choke- 
damp  had  been  met  with  at  a  distance  of  fifty  yards  from 
the  stall ;  but  upon  the  upper  road  it  was  several  hun- 
dred yards  before  it  was  found.  On  the  other  two  roads 
it  was  over  a  hundred  yards.  The  men  had  torn  strips 
o5  their  flannel  jackets,  and  had  thrust  them  into  the 
crevices  of  the  doors,  and  had  then  plastered  mud  from  the 
roadway  on  thickly,  and  there  was  no  reason  to  fear  any 
irruption  of  choke-damp,  unless,  indeed,  an  explosion 
should  take  place  so  violent  as  to  blow  in  the  doors. 
This,  however,  was  unlikely,  as,  with  a  fire  burning,  the 
gas  would  ignite  as  it  came  out;  and  although  there 
might  be  many  minor  explosions,  there  would  scarcely 
be  one  so  serious  as  the  first  two  which  had  taken  place. 

The  work  at  the  doors  and  the  water  being  over,  ths 
men  all  gathered  in  the  stall.  Then  Jack  insisted  on  an 
equal  division  of  the  tobacco,  of  which  almost  all  the 
miners  possessed  some — for  colliers,  forbidden  to  smoke, 
often  chew  tobacco,  and  the  tobacco  might  therefore  be 
regarded  both  as  a  luxury  and  as  being  very  valuable  in 
assisting  the  men  to  keep  down  the  pangs  of  hunger. 
This  had  to  be  divided  only  into  twenty  shares,  as  Mn 


FACINO  DEATH.  199 

Brook  said  that  he  could  not  use  it  in  that  way,  and  that 
he  had,  moreover,  a  couple  of  cigars  in  his  pocket,  which 
he  could  suck  if  hard  driven  to  it. 

Now  that  they  were  together  again,  all  the  lamps  were 
extinguished  save  the  two  required  by  the  men  employed. 
With  work  to  be  done,  and  a  hope  of  ultimate  release, 
the  men's  spirits  rose,  and  between  their  spells  they 
talked,  and  now  and  then  even  a  laugh  was  heard. 

Mr.  Brook,  although  unable  to  do  a  share  of  the  work, 
•was  very  valuable  in  aiding  to  keep  up  their  spirits,  by 
his  hopeful  talk,  and  by  anecdotes  of  people  who  had 
been  in  great  danger  in  many  ways  in  different  parts  of 
the  world,  but  who  had  finally  escaped. 

Sometimes  one  or  other  of  the  men  would  propose  a 
hymn — for  among  miners,  as  among  sailors,  there  is  at 
heart  a  deep  religious  feeling,  consequent  upon  a  life 
which  may  at  any  moment  be  cut  short — and  then  their 
deep  voices  would  rise  together,  while  the  blows  of  the 
sledges  and  picks  would  keep  time  to  the  swing  of  the 
tune.  On  the  advice  of  Mr.  Brook  the  men  divided  their 
portions  of  food,  small  as  they  were,  into  two  parts,  to 
be  eaten  twelve  hours  apart;  for. as  the  work  would  pro- 
ceed without  interruption  night  and  day,  it  was  better 
to  eat,  however  little,  every  twelve  hours,  than  to  go 
twenty-four  without  food. 

The  first  twenty-four  hours  over,  the  stall — or  rather 
the  heading,  for  it  was  now  driven  as  narrow  as  it  was 
possible  for  four  men  to  work  simultaneously — had 
greatly  advanced;  indeed  it  would  have  been  difficult 
even  for  a  miner  to  believe  that  so  much  work  had  been 
done  in  the  time.  There  was,  however,  no  change  in  the 
appearances;  the  water  still  trickled  in,  but  they  could 
not  perceive  that  it  came  faster  than  before.  As  fast  as 
the  coal  fell — for  fortunately  the  senia  waa  over  four  feet 


200  FACING  DEATH. 

thick,  so  that  they  did  not  have  to  work  upon  the  rock- 
it  was  removed  by  the  set  of  men  -who  were  next  for 
work,  so  that  there  was  not  a  minute  lost  from  this  cause. 

During  the  next  twenty-four  hours  almost  as  much 
work  was  done  as  during  the  first ;  but  upon  the  third 
there  was  a  decided  falling  off.  The  scanty  food  was 
telling  upon  them  now.  The  shifts  were  lengthened  to 
an  hour  to  allow  longer  time  for  sleep  between  each  spell 
of  work,  and  each  set  of  men,  when  relieved,  threw  their-- 
selves  down  exhausted,  and  slept  for  three  hours,  until  it 
was  their  turn  to  wake  up  and  remove  the  coal  as  the  set 
at  work  got  it  down. 

At  the  end  of  seventy-two  hours  the  water  was  coming 
through  the  face  much  faster  than  at  first,  and  the  old 
miners,  accustomed  to  judge  by  sound,  were  of  opinion 
that  the  wall  in  front  sounded  less  solid,  and  that  they 
were  approaching  the  old  workings  of  the  Logan  pit.  In 
three  days  and  nights  they  had  driven  the  heading  nearly 
fifteen  yards  from  the  point  where  they  had  begun. 
Upon  the  fourth  day  they  worked  cautiously,  driving  a 
borer  three  feet  ahead  of  them  into  the  coal,  as  in  case  of 
the  water  bursting  through  suddenly  they  would  ail  be 
drowned. 

At  the  end  of  ninety  hours  from  the  time  of  striking  tha 
first  blow,  the  drill  which.  Jack  holding  it,  Bill  Haclen 
was  just  driving  in  deeper  with  a  sledge,  suddenly  went 
forward,  and  as  suddenly  flew  out  as  if  shot  from  a  gun, 
followed  by  a  jet  of  water  driven  with  tremendous  force. 
A  plug,  which  had  been  prepared  in  readiness,  was  with 
difficulty  driven  into  the  hole ;  two  men  who  had  been 
knocked  down  by  the  force  of  the  water  were  picked  up, 
much  bruised  and  hurt;  and  with  thankful  hearts  that 
the  end  of  their  labor  was  at  hand,  all  prepared  for  the 
last  and  most  critical  portion  of  their  taskr 


FACING  DEATH.  f^l 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

A  CKITICAL  MOMENT. 

After  an  earnest  thanksgiving  by  Mr.  Brook  for  their 
success  thus  far,  the  whole  party  partook  of  what  was  a 
heartier  meal  than  usual,  consisting  of  the  whole  of  the 
remaining  food.  Then  choosing  the  largest  of  the  drills, 
a  hole  was  driven  in  the  coal  two  feet  in  depth,  and  in 
this  an  unusually  heavy  charge  was  placed. 

"We're  done  for  after  all,"  Bill  Haden  suddenly  ex- 
claimed.     "Look  at  the  lamp." 

Everyone  present  felt  his  heart  sink  at  what  he  saw. 
A  light  flame  seemed  to  fill  the  whole  interior  of  the 
lamp.  To  strike  a  match  to  light  the  fuse  would  be  to 
cause  an  instant  explosion  of  the  gas.  The  place  where 
they  were  working  being  the  highest  part  of  the  mine, 
the  fiery  gas,  which  made  its  way  out  of  the  coal  at  all 
points  above  the  closed  doors,  had,  being  lighter  than 
air,  mounted  there. 

"Put  the  lamps  out,"  Jack  said  quickly,  "the  gauze  is 
nearly  red  hot."     In  a  moment  they  were  in  darkness. 

"What  is  to  be  done  now?"  Mr.  Brook  asked,  after  a 
pause. 

There  was  silence  for  awhile  —  the  case  seemed 
desperate. 

"Mr.  Brook,"  Jack  said  after  a  time,  "it  is  agreed,  is 
it  not,  that  all  here  will  obey  my  orders?" 

"Yes,  certainly,  Jack,"  Mr.  Brook  answered. 

"Whatever  they  are?" 


20%  FACING  DEATH. 

■  "S 

"Yes,  -whatever  tliey  are." 

"Very  well,"  Jack  said,  "you  will  all  take  your  coats 
off  and  soak  them  in  water,  then  all  set  to  work  to  beat 
the  gas  out  of  this  heading  as  far  as  possible.  When 
that  is  done  as  far  as  can  be  done,  all  go  into  the  next 
stall,  and  lie  down  at  the  upper  end ;  you  will  be  out  of 
the  way  of  the  explosion  there.  Cover  your  heads  with 
your  wet  coats,  and,  Bill,  wrap  something  wet  round 
those  cans  of  powder." 

"What  then.  Jack?" 

"That's  all,"  Jack  said;  "I  will  fire  the  train.  If  the 
gas  explodes  at  the  match  it  will  light  the  fuse,  so  that 
the  wall  will  blow  in  anyhow." 

"No,  no,"  a  chorus  of  voices  said;  "you  will  be 
killed." 

"I  will  light  it,  Jack,"  Bill  Haden  said;  "I  am  get- 
ting on  now,  it's  no  great  odds  about  me." 

"No,  dad,"  Jack  said,  "I  am  in  charge,  and  it  is  for 
me  to  do  it.  You  have  all  promised  to  obey  orders,  so  set 
about  it  at  once.  Bill,  take  Mr.  Brook  up  first  into  the 
other  stall;  he  won't  be  able  to  find  his  way  about  in  the 
dark. ' ' 

Without  a  word  Bill  did  as  he  was  told,  Mr.  Brook 
giving  one  hearty  squeeze  to  the  lad's  hand  as  he  was 
led  away.  The  others,  accustomed  to  the  darkness  from 
boj^hood,  proceeded  at  once  to  carry  out  Jack's  instruc- 
tions, wetting  their  flannel  jackets  and  then  beating  the 
roof  with  them  toward  the  entrance  to  the  stall ;  for  five 
minutes  they  continued  this,  and  then  Jack  said : 

"Now,  lads,  off  to  the  stall  as  quick  as  j'ou  can;  cover 
your  heads  well  over ;  lie  down.  I  will  be  with  you  in  a 
minute,  or — "  or,  as  Jack  knew  well,  he  would  be 
dashed  to  pieces  by  the  explosion  of  the  gas.  He  lis- 
tened until  the  sound  of  the  last  footstep  died  away — 


FACING  DEATH.  203 

waited  a  couple  of  miniites,  to  allow  them  to  f;et  safely 
in  position  at  the  other  end  of  the  next  stall — and  then, 
holding  the  end  of  the  fuse  in  one  hand  and  the  match 
in  the  other,  he  miirmured  a  prayer,  and,  stooping  to  tho 
ground,  struck  the  match.  No  explosion  followed;  he 
applied  it  to  the  fuse,  and  ran  for  his  life  down  the 
narrow  heading,  down  the  stall,  along  the  horse  road, 
and  up  the  next  stall.  "It's  alight,"  he  said,  as  he 
rushed  in. 

A  cheer  of  congratulation  and  gladness  burst  from  the 
men.  "Cover  your  heads  close, "  Jack  said  as  he  threw 
himself  down;  "the  explosion  is  nigh  sure  to  fire  the 
gas." 

For  a  minute  a  silence  as  of  death  reigned  in  the  mine; 
then  there  was  a  sharp  crackling  explosion,  followed — 
or  rather,  prolonged — by  another  like  thunder,  and 
while  £,  flash  of  fire  seemed  to  surround  them,  filling  the 
air,  firing  their  clothes,  and  scorching  their  limbs,  the 
whole  mine  shook  with  a  deep  continuous  roaring.  The 
men  knew  that  the  danger  was  at  an  end,  threw  off  the 
covering  from  their  heads,  and  struck  out  the  fire  from 
their  garments.  Some  were  badly  burned  about  the  legs, 
but  an3'-  word  or  cry  they  may  have  uttered  was  drowned 
in  the  tremendous  roar  which  continued.  It  was  the 
water  from  the  Logan  pit  rushing  into  the  Vaughau. 
For  five  minutes  the  noise  was  like  thunder,  then,  as  the 
pressure  from  behind  decreased,  the  sound  gradually 
diminished,  until,  in  another  five  minutes,  all  was  quiet. 
Then  the  party  rose  to  their  feet.  The  air  in  the  next 
stall  was  clear  and  fresh,  for  as  the  Logan  pit  had 
emptied  of  water,  fresh  air  had  of  course  come  down 
from  the  surface  to  take  its  place. 

"We  can  light  our  lamps  again  safely  now,"  Bill 
Haden  said.     "We  shall  want  our  tools,  lads,  and  the 


204  FACING  DEATH. 

powder;  there  may  be  some  heavy  falls  in  our  way,  anci 
we  may  have  hard  work  yet  before  we  get  to  the  shaft, 
but  the  roof  rock  is  strong,  so  I  believe  we  shall  win  our 
way. ' ' 

"It  lies  to  our  right,"  Jack  said.  "Like  our  own,  it 
is  at  the  lower  end  of  the  pit,  so,  as  long  as  we  don't 
mount,  we  are  going  right  for  it." 

There  were,  as  Haden  had  anticipated,  many  heavy 
falls  of  the  roof,  but  the  water  had  swept  passages  in 
them,  and  it  was  found  easier  to  get  along  than  the  col- 
liers had  expected.  Still  it  was  hard  work  for  men  weak- 
ened by  famine;  and  it  took  them  five  hours  of  labor 
clearing  away  masses  of  rock,  and  floundering 
through  black  mud,  often  three  feet  deep,  before  they 
made  their  way  to  the  bottom  of  the  Logan  shaft,  and 
saw  the  light  far  above  them — the  light  that  at  one  time 
they  had  never  expected  to  see  again. 

"What  o'clock  is  it  now,  sir?"  Bill  Haden  asked  Mr. 
Brook,  who  had  from  the  beginning  been  the  timekeeper 
of  the  party. 

"Twelve  o'clock  exactly,"  he  replied.  "It  is  four 
days  and  an  hour  since  the  pit  fired." 

"What  day  is  it,  sir?  for  I've  lost  all  count  of  time." 

"Sunday,"  Mr.  Brook  said,  after  a  moment's  thought. 

"It  could  not  be  better,"  Bill  Haden  said;  "for  thera 
will  be  thousands  of  people  from  all  round  to  visit  the 
mine." 

"How  much  powder  have  you.  Bill?"  Jack  asked. 

"Four  twentj'-pound  cans." 

"Let  us  let  off  ten  pounds  at  a  time,"  Jack  said. 
"Just  damp  it  enough  to  prevent  it  from  flashing  off  too 
suddenly;  break  up  fine  some  of  this  damp  wood  and  mix 
with  it;  it  will  add  to  the  smoke." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  "devil"  was  ready,  and  a  light 


FACil/G  DEATH.  205 

applied;  It  blazed  furiously  for  half  a  minute,  sending 
volumes  of  light  smoke  up  the  deserted  shaft. 

"Flash  off  a  couple  of  pounds  of  dry  powder,"  Bill 
Hadensaid;  "there  is  very  little  draught  up  the  shaft, 
and  it  "will  drive  the  air  up." 

For  twenty  minutes  they  continued  letting  off  "devils'" 
and  flashing  powder.  Then  they  determined  to  stop, 
and  allow  the  shaft  to  clear  altogether  of  the  smoke. 

Presently  a  small  atone  fell  among  them — another — 
and  another,  and  tkey  knew  that  some  one  had  noticed 
the  3mok@. 


206  FACUTQ  DEATH, 


CHAPTER   XXVn. 


A  STRANGER  aiTiviug  at  Stokebridge  on  tbat  Sunday 
morning  might  have  thought  that  a  fair  or  some  similar 
festivity  was  going  on,  so  great  was  the  number  of  peo- 
ple who  passed  out  of  the  station  as  each  train  came  in. 
For  [the  day  Stokebridge  was  the  great  point  of  attrac- 
tion for  excursioQists  from  all  parts  of  Staffordshire. 
Not  that  there  was  anything  to  see.  The  Yaughan  mine 
looked  still  and  deserted ;  no  smoke  issued  from,  its  chim- 
neys; and  a  strong  body  of  police  kept  all,  except  those 
who  had  business  there,  from  approaching  within  a  cer- 
tain distance  of  the  shaft.  Still  less  was  there  to  see  in 
Stokebridge  itself.  Every  blind  was  down — for  scarce  a 
house  but  had  lost  at  least  one  of  its  members;  and  in 
the  darkened  room  women  sat,  silently  weeping  for  the 
dead  far  below.  For  the  last  four  da^'s  work  had  been 
entirely  suspvsnded  through  the  district;  and  the  men  of 
the  other  collieries  as  well  as  those  of  the  Taughan  who, 
belonging  to  the  other  shift,  had  escaped,  hung  about 
the  pit  yard  in  the  vague  hope  of  being  able  in  some  way 
to  be  useful.  Within  an  hour  of  the  explosion  the 
managers  of  the  surrounding  pits  had  assembled ;  and  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  the  three  volunteers  who  had  first 
descended  were,  without  doubt,  killed,  plenty  of  other 
brave  fellows  volunteered  their  services,  and  would  have 
gone  down  if  permitted.  But  the  repeated  explosions, 
and  the  fact  that  the  lower  part  of  the  shaft  was  now 
blocked  up,  decided  the  experienced  men  who  had  as- 


FACING  DEATH.  207 

Eembled  that  such  a  course  would  be  madness — an  opin- 
ion which  was  thoroughly  indorsed  by  Mr.  Hardingre 
and  other  government  inspectors  and  mining  authorities, 
who  arrived  within  a  few  hours  of  the  accident.  It  was 
unanimously  agreed  that  the  pit  was  on  fire,  for  a  light 
smoke  curled  up  from  the  pit  mouth,  and  some  already 
began  to  whisper  that  it  would  have  to  be  closed  up.  There 
are  few  things  more  painful  than  to  come  to  the  conclu- 
Bion  that  nothing  can  be  done,  when  women,  half-mad 
with  sorrow  and  anxiety,  are  imploring  men  to  make  an 
effort  to  save  those  below. 

Jane  Haden,  quiet  and  tearless,  sat  gazing  at  the  fatal 
shaft,  when  she  was  touched  on  the  shoulder.  She 
looked  up  and  saw  Harry. 

"Thou  art  not  down  with  them,  then,  Harry?" 

"No;  I  almost  wish  I  was, "  Harry  said.  "I  came  up 
with  Jack,  and  hurried  away  to  get  breakfast.  When  I 
heard  the  blow  I  ran  up,  and  found  Jack  had  just  gone 
down.  If  I  had  only  been  near  I  might  have  gone  with 
him;"  and  the  young  man  spoke  in  regret  at  not  having 
ehared  his  friend's  fate  rather  than  in  gladness  at  his 
own  escape. 

"Dost  think  there's  any  hope,  Harry?" 

"It's  no  use  lying,  and  there's  no  hope  for  Jack, 
mother,"  Harry  said;  "but  if  any  one's  saved  it's  like  to 
be  your  Bill.  He  was  up  in  the  old  workings,  a  long  way 
off  from  the  part  where  the  strength  of  the  blow  would 
come." 

"It's  no  use  telling  me,  Harry;  I  ask,  but  I  know  how 
it  is.  There  ain't  a  chance — not  a  chance  at  all.  If  the 
pit's  afire  they'll  have  to  flood  it,  and  then  it  will  be 
weeks  before  they  pump  it  out  again ;  and  when  they 
bring  Jack  and  Bill  up  I  shan't  know  'em.  That's  what 
I  feel,  I  shan't  even  know  'em." 


808  FACING  DEATH. 

"Don't  ■^•'•"■t  here,  Mrs.  Haden;  naught  can  be  done 
now;  the  inspectors  and  managers  will  meet  this  evening, 
and  consult  what  is  best  to  be  done." 

"Is  your  father  down,  Harry?  I  can't  think  of  aught 
but  my  own,  or  I'd  have  asked  afore. " 

"No;  he  is  in  the  other  shift.  ISI^' brother  Willy  ia 
down.     Come,  mother,  let  me  take  j'ou  home." 

But  Mrs.  Haden  would  not  move,  but  sat  with  scores 
of  other  women,  watching  the  mouth  of  the  pit,  and  the 
smoke  curling  up,  till  night  fell. 

The  news  spread  round  Stokebridge  late  in  the  even- 
ing that  the  managers  had  determined  to  shut  up  the 
mouth  of  the  pit,  if  there  was  still  smoke  in  the  morn- 
ing. Then  as  is  always  the  case  when  such  a  determina- 
tion is  arrived  at,  there  was  a  cry  of  grief  and  anger 
throughout  the  village,  and  all  who  had  friends  below 
protested  that  it  would  be  nothing  short  of  murder  to 
cut  off  the  supply  of  air.  Women  went  down  to  the  inn 
where  the  meeting  was  held,  and  raved  like  wild  crea- 
tures ;  but  the  miners  of  the  district  could  not  but  own 
the  step  was  necessary,  for  that  the  only  chance  to  ex- 
tinguish the  fire  was  by  cutting  off  the  air,  unless  the 
dreadful  alternative  of  drowning  the  pit  was  resorted  to. 

In  the  morning  the  smoke  still  curled  up,  and  the  pit's 
mouth  was  closed.  Boards  were  placed  over  both  the 
shafts,  and  earth  was  heaped  upon  them,  so  as  to  cut  off 
altogether  the  supply  of  air,  and  so  stifle  the  fire.  This  was 
on  Thursday  morning.  Nothing  was  done  on  Friday; 
and  on  Saturday  afternoon  the  mining  authorities  met 
again  in  council.  There  were  experts  there  now  from  all 
parts  of  the  kingdom — for  the  extent  of  the  catastrophe 
had  sent  a  thrill  of  horror  through  the  land.  It  was 
agreed  that  the  earth  and  staging  should  be  removed 
next  morning  early,  and  that  if  smoke  still  came  up, 
water  should  be  turned  in  from  the  canaL 


FACING  DEATH.  209 

At  six  in  the  morning  a  number  of  the  leading  authori- 
ties  met  at  the  mine.  Men  had  during  the  night  removed 
the  greater  part  of  the  earth,  and  the  rest  was  now  taken 
off,  and  the  planks  withdrawn.  At  once  a  volume  of 
smoke  poured  out.  This  was  in  any  case  expected;  and 
it  was  not  for  another  half-hour,  when  the  accumulated 
smoke  had  cleared  off,  and  a  straight  but  unbroken 
column  began  to  rise  as  before,  that  the  conviction  that 
the  pit  was  still  on  fire  seized  all  present. 

"I  fear  that  there  is  no  alternative,"  Mr.  Hardinge 
said;  "the  pit  must  be  flooded." 

There  was  not  a  dissentient  voice;  and  the  party 
moved  toward  the  canal  to  see  what  would  be  the  best 
method  of  letting  in  the  water,  when  a  cry  from  the  men 
standing  round  caused  them  to  turn,  and  they  saw  a 
dense  white  column  rise  from  the  shaft. 

"Steam!"  everyone  cried  in  astonishment. 

A  low  rumbling  sound  came  from  the  pit. 

"What  can  have  happened?"  Mr.  Hardinge  exclaimed, 
in  surprise.     "This  is  most  extraordinary!" 

All  crowded  round  the  pit  mouth,  and  could  distinctly 
hear  a  distant  roaring  sound.  Presently  this  died  away. 
Gradually  the  steam  ceased  to  rise,  and  the  air  above  the 
pit  mouth  was  clear. 

"There  is  no  smoke  rising,"  one  of  the  inspectors  said. 
"What  on  earth  can  have  happened?  Let  us  lower  a 
light  down." 

Hoisting  gear  and  rope  had  been  prepared  on  the  first 
day,  in  case  it  should  be  necessary  to  lower  any  one,  for 
the  wire  rope  had  snapped  when  the  attempt  had  been 
made  to  draAv  up  the  cage  after  the  second  explosion,  and 
the  sudden  release  from  the  strain  had  caused  the 
engine  to  fly  round,  breaking  some  gear,  and  for  the 
time  disabling  it  from  further  work.     A  hundred  and 


JilO  FACING  DEATH. 

forty  fathoms  of  rope,  the  depth  of  the  shaft  l)eing  3 
hundred  and  tv>'enty,  had  been  prepared,  and  was  in 
readiness  to  be  passed  over  a  pulley  suspended  above  tha 
shaft.  A  lighted  candle  in  a  candlestick  was  placed  on 
a  sort  of  tray,  which  was  fastened  to  the  rope,  and  then 
it  was  lowered  gradually  down.  Eagerly  those  above 
watched  it  as  it  descended — down — down,  till  it  becama 
a  mere  speck  below.      Then  it  suddenly  disappeared. 

"Stop,"  Mr.  Hardinge,  who  was  directing  the  opera- 
tions, said. 

"There  are  six  more  fathoms  yet,  sir — nigh  seven — • 
before  it  gets  to  the  hundred- and-twenty  fathom  mark." 

"Draw  up  carefully,  lads.  What  can  have  put  the 
light  out  forty  feet  from  the  bottom  of  the  shaft? 
Choke-damp,  I  suppose;  but  it's  very  singular." 

When  the  candle  came  up  to  the  surface  there  was  a 
cry  of  astonishment;  the  traj'  and  the  caudle  were  wet  I 
The  whole  of  those  present  were  astounded,  and  Mr. 
Hardinge  at  once  determined  to  descend  himself  and 
verify  this  extraordinary  occurrence.  There  was  no  fear 
of  an  explosion  now.  Taking  a  miner's  lamp,  he  took 
his  seat  in  a  sling,  and  was  lowered  down.  Just  before 
the  rope  had  run  out  to  the  point  at  which  the  light  was 
extinguished  he  gave  the  signal  to  stop  by  jerking  a  thin 
rope  which  he  held  in  his  hands. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  came  two 
jerks,  the  signal  to  haul  up. 

"It  is  so,"  he  said,  when  he  gained  the  surface; 
"there  are  forty  feet  of  water  in  the  shaft,  but  where  it 
came  from  is  more  than  I  can  tell." 

Much  astonished  at  this  singular  occurrence,  the  group 
of  mining  engineers  walked  back  to  breakfast  at  Stoke- 
bridge,  where  the  population  were  greatly  excited  at  tha 
news  that  the  pit  was  flooded.     To  the  miners  it  was  ^ 


FACING  DEATH.  211 

subject  of  the  greatest  surprise,  wliile  the  friends  of 
those  in  the  pit  received  the  news  as  the  death-Llow  of 
their  last  hopes.  It  was  now  impossible  that  any  one 
could  be  alive  in  the  pit. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  mining  authorities  went  again  to 
discuss  the  curious  phenomenon.  All  agreed  that  it  was 
out  of  the  question  that  so  large  a  quantity  of  water  had 
accumulated  in  any  old  workings,  for  the  plan  of  the  pit 
had  been  repeatedly  inspected  by  them  all.  Some  inclined 
to  the  belief  that  there  must  have  been  some  immense 
natural  cavern  above  the  workings,  and  that  when  the 
fire  in  the  pit  burned  away  the  pillars  left  to  support  the 
roof,  this  must  have  fallen  in,  and  let  the  water  in  the 
cavern  into  the  mine;  others  pointed  out  that  there  was 
no  example  whatever  of  a  cavern  of  such  dimensions  as 
this  must  have  been  being  found  in  the  coal  formation, 
and  pointed  to  the  worked-out  Logan  pit,  which  was 
known  to  be  full  of  water,  as  the  probable  source  of 
suppb'. 

During  the  previous  four  days  the  plan  had  been  dis- 
cussed of  cutting  through  from  the  Logan,  which  was 
known  to  have  been  worked  nearly  up  to  the  Vaughan 
boundary.  This  would  enable  them  to  enter  the  pit  and 
rescue  any  miners  who  might  be  alive,  but  the  fact  that 
to  erect  pumping  gear  and  get  out  the  water  would  be 
an  affair  of  many  weeks,  if  not  months,  had  caused  the 
idea  to  be  abandoned  as  soon  as  broached.  To  those 
who  argued  that  the  water  had  come  from  the  Logan,  it 
was  pointed  out  that  there  were  certainly  several  yards 
of  solid  coal  between  the  Vaughan  and  the  Logan  still 
standing,  and  that  as  the  force  of  the  explosion  was  evi- 
denly  near  the  Vaughan  shaft  it  was  incredible  that  this 
barrier  between  |  the  pits  should  have  been  shattered. 
However,  it  was  decided  to  solve  the  questions  one  way 


213  FACING  BEATS. 

or  the  other  "by  an  immediate  visit  to  the  top  of  the  oH 

Logan  shaft. 

They  were  just  starting  when  they  heard  a  movement 
in  the  street,  and  men  setting  off  to  run.  A  moment 
later  a  miner  entered  the  room  hurriedly.  "There  be  a 
big  smoke  comicg  up  from  the  old  Logan  shaft;  it  be 
too  light  for  coal  smoke,  and  I  don't  think  it  be  steam 
either." 

With  exclamations  of  surprise  the  whole  party  seized 
their  hats  and  hurried  off.  It  was  twenty  minutes'  sharp 
walking  to  the  shaft,  where,  by  the  time  they  reached 
it,  a  large  crowd  of  miners  and  others  were  already  as- 
sembled. As  they  approached,  eager  men  ran  forward  to 
meet  them. 

"It  be  gunpowder  smoke,  sir!" 

There  was  indeed  no  mistaking  the  sulphurous  smell. 

"It's  one  of  two  things,"  Mr.  Hardinge  said;  "either 
the  fire  has  spread  to  [the  upper  workings,  some  powder 
bags  have  exploded,  and  the  shock  has  brought  down 
the  dividing  wall,  in  which  case  the  poMder  smoke  might 
possible  find  its  way  out  when  the  watei  from  the  Logan 
drained  in,  or  else,  in  some  miraculous  way  some  of  the 
men  have  made  their  escape,  and  are  letting  off  powder 
to  call  our  attention.  At  any  rate  let  us  drop  a  small 
stone  or  two  down.  If  any  one  be  below  he  will  know 
he  is  noticed."  Then  he  turned  to  the  miners  standing 
round:  "I  want  the  pulley  and  rope  that  we  were  using 
at  the  Vaughan,  and  that  small  cage  that  was  put  to- 
gether to  work  with  it.  I  want  two  or  three  strong 
poles,  to  form  a  tripod  over  the  pit  here,  and  a  few  long 
planks  to  make  a  stage." 

Fifty  willing  men  hurried  off  to  fetch  the  required 
materials. 

"The  smoke  is  getting  thinner,  a  good  deal,"  one  of 


FACING  DEATH.  J13 

ttie  managers  said.  "Now,  if  you'll  held  me,  I  will  giva 
a  shout  dov.n. " 

The  mouth  of  the  pit  was  surrounded  by  a  wooden 
fencing,  to  prevent  any  one  from  falling  down  it.  The 
speaker  got  over  this  and  lay  down  on  his  faco,  working 
nearer  to  the  edge,  which  sloped  dangerously  down, 
while  others,  following  in  the  same  way,  held  his  legs, 
and  were  in  their  turn  held  by  others. 

When  his  head  and  shoulders  were  fairly  over  the  pis 
he  gave  a  loud  shout. 

There  was  a  death-like  silence  on  the  part  of  the  crowd 
standing  round,  and  all  of  those  close  could  hear  a  faint 
murmur  come  from  below. 

Then  arose  a  cheer,  echoed  again  and  again,  and  then 
half  a  dozen  fleet-footed  boj's  started  for  Stokebridga 
with  the  news  that  some  of  the  imprisoned  pitmen  were 
still  alive. 

Mr.  Hardinge  wrote  on  a  piece  of  paper,  "Keep  up 
j'our  courage;  in  an  hour's  time  the  cage  will  coma 
down;"  wrapped  it  round  a  stone,  and  dropped  it  down. 
A  messenger  was  dispatched  to  the  Yaughan,  for  the 
police  force  stationed  there  to  come  up  at  once  to  keep 
back  the  excited  crowd,  and  with  orders  that  the  stretch- 
ers and  blankets  in  readiness  should  be  brought  on; 
while  another  went  into  Stokebridge  for  a  surgeon,  and 
for  a  supply  of  wine,  brandy,  and  food,  and  two  or  three 
vehicles.  No  sooner  were  the  men  sent  off  than  Mr. 
Hardinge  said,  in  a  loud  tone: 

"Everj'  moment  must  be  of  consequence;  they  must 
be  starving.  Will  any  one  here  who  has  food  give  it  for 
them?" 

The  word  was  passed  through  the  crowd,  and  a  score 
of  picnic  baskets  were  at  once  offered.  Filling  one  of 
them  full  of  sandwiches  from  the  rest,  Mr.  Hardinge  tied 


214  FACING  DEATH. 

the  lid  securely  on,  and  threw  it  down  the  shaft;. 
"There  is  no  fear  of  their  standing  under  the  shaft,"  he 
said;  "they  will  know  we  shall  he  working  here,  and 
that  stones  might  fall." 

In  less  than  an  hour,  thanks  to  the  willing  work  of 
many  hands,  a  platform  was  constructed  across  the  mouth 
of  the  Logan  shaft,  and  a  tripod  of  strong  poles  fixed  in 
its  place.  The  police  kept  the  crowd,  by  this  time  very 
many  thousands  strong,  back  in  a  wide  circle  round  the 
ehaft,  none  being  allowed  inside  save  those  who  had  near 
relatives  in  the  Vaughan.  These  were  for  the  most  part 
women,  who  had  rushed  wildly  up  without  bonnets  or 
shawls — just  as  they  stood  when  the  report  reached  them 
that  there  were  yet  some  survivors  of  the  explosion.  At 
full  speed  they  had  hurried  along  the  road — some  pale 
and  still  despairing,  refusing  to  allow  hope  to  rise  again, 
but  unable  to  stay  away  from  the  fatal  pit;  others  crying 
as  they  ran;  some  even  laughing  in  hysterical  excite- 
ment. Most  excited,  because  most  hopeful,  were  those 
whose  husbands  had  stalls  in  the  old  workings,  for  it  had 
from  the  first  been  believed  that  while  all  in  the  main 
workings  were  probably  killed  at  once  by  the  first  explo- 
sion, those  in  the  old  Avorkings  might  have  survived  for 
days. 

Jane  Haden  walked  steadily  along  the  road,  accom- 
panied by  Harry  Shepherd,  who  had  brought  her  the 
news,  and  by  Nellj'  Hardy. 

"I  will  go,"  she  said,  "but  it  is  of  no  use;  they  are 
both  gone,  and  I  shall  never  see  them  again." 

Then  she  had  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  deliberately 
and  slowly,  and  had  started  at  her  ordinary  pace,  pro- 
testing all  along  against  its  being  supposed  that  she  en- 
tertained the  slightest  hope;  but  when  she  neared  the 
Bpot  her  quivering  lips  and  twitching  fingers  belied  her 


FACING  DEATH.  215 

words.  Nelly  reruained  outside  the  crowd,  but  Harry- 
made  a  way  for  Jane  Haden  through  the  outside  circle  of 
spectators. 

A  smaller  circle  of  some  thirty  yards  in  diameter  waa 
kept  round  the  shaft,  and  within  this  only  those  direct- 
ing the  operations  were  allowed  to  enter.  Mr.  Hardinge 
and  one  of  the  local  managers  took  their  places  in  the 
cage.  The  rope  was  held  by  twenty  men,  who  at  first 
stood  at  its  full  length  from  the  shaft,  and  then  advanced 
at  a  walk  toward  it,  thus  allowing  the  cage  to  descend 
steadily  and  easily,  without  jerks.  As  they  came  close 
to  the  shaft  the  signal  rope  wjis  shaken;  another  step  or 
two,  slowly  and  carefully  taken,  and  the  rope  was  seen  to 
sway  slightly.  The  cage  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  shaft. 
Three  minutes'  pause,  the  signal  rope  shook,  and  the 
men  with  the  end  of  the  rope  started  again  to  walk  from 
the  shaft. 

As  they  increased  their  distance  the  excitement  in  tha 
great  crowd  grew,  and  when  the  cage  showed  above  the 
surface  and  it  was  seen  that  it  contained  three  miners,  a 
hoarse  cheer  arose.  The  men  were  assisted  from  tha 
cage,  and  surrounded  for  a  moment  by  those  in  author- 
ity, and  one  of  the  head  men  raised  his  hand  for  silence 
and  then  shouted : 

"Mr.  Brook  and  twenty  others  are  saved!"  an  an- 
nouncement which  was  received  with  another  and  even 
more  hearty  cheer. 

Passing  on  the  rescued  men  moved  forward  to  where 
the  women  stood  anxiously  gazing.  Blackened  as  they 
were  with  coal-dust  they  were  recognizable,  and  with 
wild  screams  of  joy  three  women  burst  from  the  rest  and 
threw  themselves  in  their  arms.  But  only  for  a  moment 
could  they  indulge  in  this  burst  of  happiness,  for  the 
other  women  crowded  round. 


^IQ  FACING  DEATH. 

""Who  is  alive?     For  God's  sake,  tell  us  who  is  alive?" 

Then  one  by  one  the  names  were  told,  each  greeted 
with  cries  of  joy,  till  the  last  name  was  spoken ;  and  then 
came  a  burst  of  wailing  and  lamentation  from  those  who 
had  listened  in  vain  for  the  names  of  those  they  loved. 

Jane  Haden  had  not  risen  from  the  seat  she  had  taken 
on  a  block  of  broken  brickwork. 

"No,  no!"  she  said  to  Harry,  "I  will  not  hope!  I 
will  not  hope!"  And  while  Harry  moved  closer  to  the 
group  to  hear  the  names  of  the  saved  she  sat  with  her 
face  buried  in  her  hands. 

The  very  first  names  given  were  those  of  Jack  Simpson 
and  Bill  Haden,  and  with  a  shout  of  joy  he  rushed  back. 
The  step  told  its  tale,  and  Jane  Haden  looked  up,  rose 
as  if  with  a  hidden  spring,  and  looked  at  him. 

"Both  saved!"  he  exclaimed;  and  with  a  strange  cry 
Jane  Haden  swayed  and  fell  insensible. 

An  hour  later  and  the  last  survivor  of  those  who  were 
below  in  the  Vaughan  pit  stood  on  the  surface,  the  last 
cage-load  being  Mr.  Brook,  Jack  Simpson,  and  Mr.  Har- 
dinge.  By  this  time  the  mourners  had  left  the  scene, 
and  there  was  nothing  to  check  the  delight  felt  at  the 
recovery  from  the  tomb,  as  it  was  considered,  of  so  many 
of  those  deemed  lost. 

When  Mr.  Brook — who  was  a  popular  employer,  and 
whose  popularity  was  now  increased  by  his  having,  al- 
though involuntarily,  shared  the  dangers  of  his  men — 
stepped  from  the  cage,  the  enthusiasm  was  tremendous. 
The  crowd  broke  the  cordon  of  police  and  rushed  for- 
ward, cheering  loudly.  Mr.  Hardinge,  after  a  minute  or 
two  held  up  his  hand  for  silence,  and  helped  Mr.  Brook 
on  to  a  heap  of  stones.  Although  Mr.  Brook,  as  well  as 
the  rest,  had  already  recovered  much,  thanks  to  the 
basket  of  food  thrown  down  to  them,  and  to  the  supply 


FACING  BE  ATE.  217 

cf  weak  brandy  and  water,  and  of  soup,  which  those  who 
bad  first  descended  had  carried  with  them,  he  was  yet  so 
weakened  by  his  long  fast  that  he  was  nnable  to  speak. 
He  could  only  wave  his  hand  in  token  of  his  thanks,  and 
Bobs  of  emotion  choked  his  words.  Mr.  Hardinge,  how- 
ever, who  had,  during  the  hour  below,  learned  all  that 
had  taken  place,  and  had  spoken  for  some  time  apart 
with  Mr.  Brook,  now  stood  up  beside  him. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  in  a  loud,  clear  voice,  which 
was  heard  over  the  whole  crowd,  "Mr.  Brook  is  too  much 
shaken  by  what  he  has  gone  through  to  speak,  but  he 
desires  me  to  thank  you  most  heartily  in  his  name  for 
5'our  kind  greeting.  He  wishes  to  say  that,  under  God, 
his  life,  and  the  lives  of  those  with  him,  have  been  saved 
hy  the  skill,  courage,  and  science  of  his  under-viewer. 
Jack  Simpson.  Mr.  Brook  has  consulted  me  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  I  thoroughb'  agree  with  what  he  intends  to  do, 
and  can  certify  to  Jack  Simpson's  ability,  young  as  he 
is,  to  fill  any  post  to  which  he  may  be  appointed.  In  a 
short  time  I  hope  that  the  Vaughan  pit  will  be  pumped 
out  and  at  work  again,  and  when  it  is  Mr.  Jack  Simpson 
will  be  its  manager." 

The  story  of  the  escape  from  death  had  already  been 
told  briefly  by  the  miners  as  they  came  to  the  surface, 
and  had  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  among  the  crowd, 
and  Mr.  Hardinge's  announcement  was  greeted  with  a 
storm  of  enthusiasm.  Jack  was  seized  by  a  score  of 
sturdy  pitmen,  and  would  have  been  carried  in  triumph, 
vrere  it  not  that  the  startling  announcement,  coming  after 
such  a  long  and  intense  strain,  proved  too  much  for  him, 
and  he  fainted  in  the  arms  of  his  admirers. 


FACING  DEATH, 


CHAPTER  XXVni. 


Beyond  the  body  of  the  crowd,  outaide  the  ring  kept 
by  the  police,  stood  Nelly  Hardy,  watching,  without  a 
vestige  of  color  in  her  face,  for  the  news  from  below. 
She  had  given  a  gasping  sigh  of  relief  as  the  names, 
passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  by  the  crowd,  met  her  ear, 
and  had  leaned  for  support  against  the  wall  behind  her. 
So  great  was  her  faith  in  Jack's  resources  and  in  Jack's 
destiny  that  she  had  all  along  hoped,  and  the  assertion 
that  those  who  had  first  gone  down  to  rescue  the  pitmen 
must  have  fallen  victims  to  the  second  explosion  h&d 
fallen  dead  upon  her  ears. 

The  school  had  been  closed  from  the  date  of  the  acci- 
dent, and  had  it  not  been  so,  she  felt  that  she  could 
not  have  performed  her  duties.  Hour  after  hour  she  had 
sat  in  her  cottage  alone — for  her  mother  had  died  a  year 
before — except  when  Mrs.  Dodgson,  who  had  long  sus- 
pected her  secret,  came  to  sit  awhile  with  her,  or  Harry 
brought  the  latest  news.  During  this  time  she  had  not 
shed  a  tear,  and,  save  for  her  white  face  and  hard,  un- 
natural voice,  none  could  have  told  how  she  suffered. 
Harry  had  brought  her  the  news  of  the  smoke  being  seen 
from  the  shaft  of  the  Logan  pit  before  he  carried  it  ta 
Mrs.  Haden,  and  she  had  at  once  throv^n  on  her  bonnet 
and  jacket  and  joined  them,  as  they  started  from  tha 
village.  When  she  reached  the  pit  she  had  not  attempted 
to   approach,  but   had   taken   her   place  at  a   distance. 


FACINQ  DEATU:  219 

Several  of  her  pupils,  with  whom  she  was  a  great  favor- 
ite, had  come  up  to  speak  to  her,  but  her  hoarse,  "Not 
now,  dear;  please  go  away,"  had  sufficed  to  send  them 
off.  But  deei^ly  agitated  as  she  was,  she  was  hopeful ; 
and  deep  as  was  her  joy  at  the  news  of  Jack's  safety  sho 
v/as  hardly  surprised.  Dropping  her  veil  to  hide  the 
tears  of  joy  which  streamed  down  her  cheeks,  she  turned 
to  go  home;  but  she  was  more  shaken  than  she  had 
thought,  and  she  had  to  grasp  at  the  wall  for  support. 

So  she  v/aited  until  the  last  of  [the  miners  arrived  at 
the  surface,  and  heard  the  speech  of  the  government  in- 
spector. Then  when  she  heard  Jack's  elevation  an- 
nounced the  news  shook  her  even  more  than  that  of  his 
safety  had  done,  and  she  fainted.  When  she  recovered 
the  crowd  was  gone,  and  Harry  only  stood  beside  her. 
He  had  felt  that  she  would  rather  stand  and  watch  alone, 
and  had  avoided  going  near  her,  but  when  Jack  was 
driven  off  he  had  hastened  to  her  side.  He  knew  how 
she  would  object  to  her  emotion  becoming  known,  and 
Lad  contented  himself  with  lifting  her  veil,  untying  her 
bonnet  strings,  putting  her  in  a  sitting  attitude  against 
the  wall,  and  waiting  patiently  till  she  came  round. 

"Are  you  better  now?"  he  inquired  anxiously  when 
ehe  opened  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  I  am  well  now,"  she  said,  glancing  hastib-- 
round  to  see  if  others  beside  himself  had  noticed  her 
situation;  "I  am  quite  well." 

"Don't  try  to  get  up;  sit  still  a  few  minutes  longer," 
he  said.     "Don't  try  to  talk. " 

"He  has  got  his  rise  at  last,"  she  said  smiling  faintly 
and  looking  up;  "he  has  gone  right  away  from  us  at  a 
bound." 

"I  am  glad,"  Harry  said  simply.  "He  has  earned  it. 
He  is  a  grand,  a   glorious  fellow,  is  Jack.      Of  course  I 


S30  FACING  DEATE. 

shall  never  be  to  bim  now  what  I  have  been,  but  I  kao?/ 
that  he  will  be  as  true  a  friend  as  ever,  though  I  ruay  not 
Bee  so  much  of  him." 

"You  are  more  unselfish  than  I,  Harry;  but  as  he  was 
to  rise,  it  was  better  that  it  should  be  at  a  bound  far 
above  me.     Now  I  am  better;  let  me  go  home." 

Jack  Simpson's  fainting  fit  had  been  but  of  short  dura- 
tion. His  sturdy  organization  soon  recovered  from  tba 
shock  which  the  fresh  air  and  Mr.  Hardinge's  announce- 
ment had  made  upon  a  frame  exhausted  by  privation, 
fatigue,  and  excitement.  None  the  less  was  he  astonished 
and  indignant  with  himself  at  what  he  considered  a  girl- 
ish weakness.  His  thoughts  were,  however,  speedily 
diverted  from  himself  by  a  pitman  telling  him  that  Jane 
Haden  was  in  a  second  faint  close  by.  Mr.  Brook's  car- 
riage had  been  sent  for  in  readiness,  immediately  the 
possibility  of  his  being  found  alive  bad  appeared ;  and 
that  gentleman  insisted  upon  Mrs.  Haden  being  lifted 
into  it,  and  upon  Jack  taking  bis  seat  beside  her  to  sup- 
port her.  He  then  followed,  and  amid  the  cheers  of  the 
crowd,  started  for  Stokebridge. 

Mrs.  Haden  recovered  before  reaching  the  village ;  and 
leaving  her  and  Jack  at  their  home,  with  an  intimation 
that  the  carriage  would  come  at  an  early  hour  next  morn- 
ing to  fetch  the  latter  up  to  the  hall,  Mr.  Brook  drove  oli 
alone. 

That  afternoon  was  a  proud  day  for  Bill  Haden  and 
his  wife,  but  a  trying  one  for  Jack. 

Everyone  in  the  place  who  had  the  slightest  knowl- 
edge of  bim  called  to  shake  bis  band  and  congratulate 
him  on  his  promotion,  his  friends  of  boyhood  first  among 
them.  Harry  was  one  of  the  earliest  comers,  and  tears 
fell  down  the  cheeks  of  both  as  they  clasped  bands  in 
silent  joy  at  their  reunion.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  or 
needed. 


FACING  DEATH.  221 

"Go  round  to  Nelly,"  Jack  naid  iu  an  undertone  as 
other  visitors  arrived;  "tell  her  I  will  come  in  and  see 
her  at  seven  o'clock.  Come  again  yourself  bofore  that, 
let  us  three  meet  together  again." 

So  quickly  did  the  callers  press  in  that  the  little  room 
could  not  hold  them ;  and  Jack  had  to  go  to  the  front 
door,  there  to  shake  hands  and  say  a  word  to  all  who 
wanted  to  see  him.  It  was  quite  a  levee,  and  it  was 
only  the  fact  that  the  gloom  of  a  terrible  calamity  hung 
over  Stokebridge  that  prevented  the  demonstration  being 
noisy  as  well  as  enthusiastic. 

By  six  o'clock  all  his  friends  had  seen  him,  and  Jack 
Bat  down  with  Bill  Haden  and  Lis  wife.  Then  Jane 
Haden's  feelings  relieved  themselves  by  a  copious  flood 
of  tears;  and  Bill  himself,  though  he  reproached  her  for 
crying  on  such  an  occasion,  did  so  in  a  husky  voice. 

"Thou  art  going  to  leave  us.  Jack,"  Jane  Haden  said; 
*'and  though  we  shall  miss  thee  sorely,  thou  mustn't  go 
to  think  that  Bill  or  me  be  sorry  at  the  good  fortune  that 
be  come  upon  you.  Thou  hast  been  a  son,  and  a  good 
Bon  to  us,  and  ha'  never  given  so  much  as  a  day's 
trouble.  I  know'd  as  how  you'd  leave  us  sooner  or  later. 
There  was  sure  to  be  a  time  when  all  the  larning  tliou 
hast  worked  so  hard  to  get  would  bring  thee  to  fortune, 
but  I  didn't  think  'twould  come  so  soon." 

Bill  Haden  removed  from  his  lips  the  pipe — which,  in 
his  endeavor  to  make  up  for  loss  of  time,  he  had  smoked 
without  ceasing  from  the  moment  of  his  rescue — and 
grunted  an  acquiescence  with  his  wife's  speech. 

"My  dear  mother  and  dad,"  Jack  said,  "there  must 
be  no  talk  of  parting  between  us.  As  yet,  of  course,  it 
is  too  soon  to  form  plans  for  the  future ;  but  be  assured 
that  there  will  be  no  parting.  You  took  me  when  I  was 
a  helpless  baby  ;  but  for  you  I  should  have  been  a  work- 


222  FACING  DEATH. 

house  child,  and  might  now  be  coming  out  of  my  appren- 
ticeship to  a  tinker  or  a  tailor.  I  owe  ail  I  have,  all  I 
am,  to  you;  and  whatever  fortune  befall  me  you  will 
still  be  dad  and  mother.  For  a  short  time  I  must  go  to 
the  hall,  as  Mr.  Brook  has  invited  me ;  and  we  shall  have 
much  to  arrange  and  talk  over.  Afterward  I  suppose  I 
shall  have  to  go  to  the  manager's  house,  but,  of  course, 
arrangements  will  have  to  be  made  as  to  Mr.  Fletcher's 
widow  and  children ;  and  when  I  go  there,  of  course  you 
will  come  too." 

"Thee'st  a  good  un,  lad,"  Bill  Hadea  said,  for  Mrs. 
Haden's  tears  prevented  her  speech;  "but  I  doubt  what 
thou  say'st  can  be;  but  we  needn't  talk  that  over  now. 
But  t'  old  'ooman  and  I  be  none  the  less  glad  o'  thy 
words.  Jack;  though  the  bit  and  sup  thou  had'st  hera 
till  you  went  into  th'  pit  and  began  to  pay  your  way 
ain't  worth  the  speaking  o'.  Thou  beats  me  a'together. 
Jack.  When  un  sees  a  good  pup  un  looks  to  his  breed, 
and  un  finds  it  pure;  but  where  thou  get'st  thy  poinU 
from  beats  me  a'together.  Thy  mother  were  a  school- 
master's daughter,  but  she  had  not  the  name  o'  being 
fond  o'  larning,  and  was  a'ways  weak  and  ailing;  thy 
dad,  my  mate  Jack  Simpson,  was  as  true  a  mate  as  ever 
man  had;  but  he  were  in  no  ways  uncommon.  The  old 
'ooman  and  I  ha'  reared  ye;  but,  arter  all,  pups  don't 
follow  their  foster-mother,  for  the  best  bull  pup  ain't  no 
ways  injured  by  having  a  half-bred  un,  or  for  the  matter 
o'  that  one  wi'  no  breed  at  all,  as  a  foster-mother;  be- 
sides the  old  'ooman  and  me  has  no  points  at  all,  *cept 
on  my  part,  such  as  are  bad  uns;  so  it  beats  me  fairly. 
It  downright  shakes  un's  faith  in  breeding." 

Here  Harry's  tap  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  Jack, 
leaving  Bill  Haden  to  ponder  over  his  egregious  failure 
in  proving  true  to  blood,  joined  his  friend  outside. 


FACING  DEATH.  223 

Scarce  a  word  -was  epokon  between  the  two  young 
men  as  they  walked  across  to  Nelly  Hardy's  little  cottage 
by  the  schoolhouse.  The  candles  were  already  lighted, 
and  Nelly  rose  as  they  entered. 

"My  dear  Nelly." 

"My  dear  Jack,"  she  said,  throwing  her  arms  round 
his  neck  as  a  sister  might  have  done,  and  kissing  him, 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life;  and  crying, "My  dear  Jack, 
thank  God  you  are  restored  alive  to  us." 

"Thank  God,  indeed,"  Jack  said  reverently ;  "it  has 
been  almost  a  miracle,  Nelly,  and  I  am  indeed  thankful. 
We  prayed  nearly  as  hard  as  we  w^orked,  and  God  was 
with  us;  otherwise  assuredly  we  had  never  passed 
through  such  danger  uninjured.  I  thought  many  a  time 
of  you  and  Harry,  and  what  you  would  be  doing  and 
thinking." 

"I  never  gave  up  hope,  did  I,  Harry?"  she  said;  "I 
thought  that  somehow  such  a  useful  life  as  yours  would 
bo  spared." 

"Many  other  useful  lives  have  been  lost,  Nelly,"  Jack 
Baid  sadly;  "but  it  was  not  my  time." 

"And  now,"  Nelly  said,  changing  her  tone,  "there  are 
other  things  to  talk  of.  Will  you  please  take  a  chair, 
eir,"  and  she  dropped  a  courtesy.  "Didn't  I  tell  you. 
Jack,"  she  said,  laughing  at  the  astonishment  in  Jack's 
face,  "that  when  you  congratulated  me  on  getting  my 
post  here  and  called  me  Miss  Hardy,  that  the  time  would 
come  when  I  should  say  Sir  to  you.  It  has  come.  Jack, 
sooner  than  we  expected,  but  I  knew  it  would  come." 

Then  changing  her  tone  again,  as  they  sat  looking  at 
the  fire,  she  went  on,  "You  know  we  are  glad.  Jack, 
Harry  and  I,  more  glad  than  we  can  say ;  that  needs  no 
telling  between  us,  does  it?" 

"None,"  Jack  said.  "We  are  one,  we  three,  and  no 
need  to  say  we  are  glad  at  each  other's  success." 


224  FACING  DEATH. 

"We  have  had  happy  days/*  Nelly  said,  '*but  ths7 
will  never  be  quite  the  same  again.  We  shall  always  bo 
friends,  Jack,  always — true  and  dear  friends,  but  we  can- 
not be  all  in  all  to  each  other.  I  know,  dear  Jack,"  she 
said  as  she  saw  he  was  about  to  speak  vehemently,  "that 
you  will  be  as  much  our  friend  in  one  way  as  ever,  but 
you  cannot  be  our  companion.  It  is  impossible.  Jack. 
We  have  trod  the  same  path  together,  but  your  path 
leaves  ours  here.  We  shall  be  within  sound  of  each 
other's  voices,  we  shall  never  lose  sight  of  each  other, 
but  we  are  no  longer  together." 

"I  have  not  thought  it  over  yet, "  Jack  said  quietly. 
"It  is  all  too  new  and  too  strange  to  me  to  see  yet  how 
things  will  work ;  but  it  is  true,  Nelly,  and  it  is  the  ouo 
drawback  to  my  good  fortune,  that  there  must  be  some 
little  change  between  us.  But  in  the  friendship  which 
began  when  you  stood  by  me  at  the  old  shaft  and  helped 
me  to  save  Harrj',  there  will  be  no  change.  I  have  risen 
as  I  always  had  determined  to  rise ;  I  have  worked  for 
this  from  the  day  when  Mr.  Pastor,  my  artist  friend, 
told  me  it  was  possible  I  might  reach  it,  but  I  never 
dreamed  it  would  come  so  soon ;  and  I  have  always  hoped 
and  thought  that  I  should  keep  you  both  with  me.  How 
things  will  turn  out  we  do  not  know,  but,  dear  friends," 
and  he  held  out  his  hand  to  each,  "believe  me,  that  I 
shall  always  be  as  I  am  now,  that  I  shall  care  little  for 
my  good  fortune  unless  I  can  retain  you  both  as  my 
dearest  friends." 


FACING  DEATH.  2.<5.5 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 


THE  NEW    MANAGER. 


The  next  day  preparations  for  pumping  out  the 
Vauglian  commenced ;  but  it  took  weeks  to  get  rid  of  the 
water  which  had  flowed  in  in  five  minutea.  Then  the 
work  of  clearing  the  mine  and  bringing  up  the  bodies 
commenced. 

This  was  a  sad  business.  A  number  of  coffins,  equal 
to  that  of  the  men  known  to  be  below  at  the  time  of  the 
explosion,  were  in  readiness  in  a  shed  near  the  pit 
mouth.  These  were  sent  down,  and  the  bodies  as  they 
were  found  were  placed  in  them  to  be  carried  above.  In 
scarcely  any  instances  could  the  dead  be  identified  by  the 
relatives,  six  weeks  in  the  water  having  changed  them 
beyond  all  recognition;  only  by  the  clothes  could  a  clew 
be  obtained.  Then  the  funerals  began.  A  great  grave 
a  hundred  feet  long  by  twelve  wide  had  been  dug  in  the 
churchyard,  and  in  this  the  coffins  were  laid  two  deep. 

Some  days,  ten,  some  fifteen,  some  twenty  bodies  were 
laid  there,  and  at  each  funeral  the  whole  village  attended. 
Who  could  know  whether  those  dearest  to  them  were  not 
among  the  shapeless  forms  each  dscy  consigned  to  tLcir 
last  resting-place? 

At  last  the  tale  was  complete;  the  last  of  the  victiras 
of  the  great  explosion  at  the  Vaughan  was  laid  to  rt-st, 
the  blinds  were  drawn  up,  and  save  that  the  whole  of  tho 
people  seemed  to  be  in  mourning,  Stokebridge  assumed 
its  usual  aspect. 


226  FAGIim  DEATH. 

Upon  tbe  day  before  the  renewal  of  regular  wort,  Jack 
Simpson,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Brook  appeared  upon  tlio 
ground,  and  signified  that  none  were  to  descend  until  he 
had  spoken  to  them.  He  had  already  won  their  respect 
by  his  indefatigable  attention  to  the  work  of  clearing 
the  mine,  and  by  the  care  he  had  evinced  for  the  recovery 
of  the  bodies. 

Few,  however,  of  the  hands  [had  [spoken  to  him  since 
his  accession  to  his  new  dignity;  now  they  had  time  to 
observe  him,  and  all  wondered  at  the  change  which  had 
been  wrought  in  his  appearance.  Clothes  do  not  make  a 
man,  but  they  greatly  alter  his  appearance,  and  there 
was  not  one  but  felt  that  Jack  looked  every  inch  a  gen- 
tleman. "When  he  began  to  speak  their  wonder  increased. 
Except  to  Mr.  Dodgson,  Harry,  Nelly  Hardy,  and  some 
of  his  young  comrades.  Jack  had  always  spoken  in  the 
dialect  of  the  place,  and  the  surprise  of  the  colliers  when 
he  spoke  in  perfect  English  without  a  trace  of  accent  or 
dialect  was  great  indeed. 

Standing  up  in  the  gig   in   which  he   had  driven  up 
■with  Mr.  Brook  he  spoke  in  a  loud,  clear  voice,  heard 
easily  throughout  the  yard. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  "my  position  here  is  anew 
and  difficult  one,  so  difficult  that  di«  I  not  feel  sure  that 
you  would  help  me  to  make  it  as  easy  as  possible  I  should 
shrink  from  undertaking  it.  I  am  a  very  young  man.  I 
have  grown  up  among  you,  and  of  you,  and  now  in  a 
strange  way,  due  in  a  great  measure  to  the  kindness  of 
your  employers,  and  in  a  small  degree  to  my  own  exer- 
tions to  improve  myself,  I  have  come  to  be  put  over  you. 
Now  it  is  only  by  your  helping  me  that  I  can  maintain 
this  position  here.  You  will  find  in  me  a  true  friend.  I 
know  your  difficulties  and  your  wants,  and  I  will  do  all 
in  my  power   to  render  your  lives  comfortable.     Those 


FACING  DEATH.  227 

among  you  who  were  my  fi-iends  from  boyhood  can  bo- 
lieve  this;  the  rest  of  you  will  find  it  to  be  so.  Any  of 
you  ayIio  are  in  trouble  or  in  difficulty  will,  if  you  como 
to  mo  obtain  advice  and  assistance.  But  while  I  will  try 
to  be  your  friend,  and  will  do  all  in  my  power  for  your 
welfare,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  you  should  treat 
me  with  the  respect  due  to  Mr.  Brook's  manager.  "With- 
out proper  discipline  proper  work  is  impossible.  A  cap- 
tain must  be  captain  of  his  own  ship,  though  many  c? 
his  men  know  the  work  as  w^ell  as  he  does.  And  I  am 
glad  to  be  able  to  tell  3'ou  that  ]\Ir.  Brook  has  given  mo 
full  power  to  make  such  regulations  and  to  cai-ry  out 
Buch  improvement  as  may  be  conducive  to  your  conifoiu 
and  welfare.  He  wants,  and  I  want,  the  Vaughan  to  be 
a  model  mine  and  Stokebridge  a  model  village,  and  v.o 
will  do  all  in  our  power  to  carry  out  our  wishes.  V^'o 
hope  that  no  dispute  will  ever  again  arise  here  on  tho 
question  of  wages.  There  was  one  occasion  when  the 
miners  of  the  Vaughan  were  led  away  by  strangers  and 
paid  dearly  for  it.  We  hope  that  such  a  thing  will 
never  occur  again.  Mr.  Brook  expects  a  fair  return,  aud 
no  more  than  a  fair  return,  for  the  capital  he  has  sunk 
in  the  mine.  "When  times  are  good  you  will  share  hia 
prosperity ;  when  times  are  bad  you,  like  he,  must  sub- 
mit to  sacrifices.  If  disputes  arise  elsewhere,  thej'  need 
not  affect  us  here,  for  you  may  be  sure  that  your  wages 
will  never  be  below  those  paid  elsewhere.  And  now  I 
have  said  my  say.  Let  us  conclude  by  trusting  that  wo 
shall  be  as  warm  friends  as  ever,  although  our  relatione 
toward  each  other  are  necessarily  changed." 

Three  rousing  cheers  greeted  the  conclusion  of  Jack'.i 
speech,  after  which  he  drove  off  with  Mr.  Brook.  As  the 
men  gathered  round  the  top  of  the  shaft,  an  old  miner 
exclaimed:  "Dang  it  all^  I  ha'    it  now.     I  was   wonder- 


223  FACING  DEATE. 

ing  all  the  time  be  was  speaking  -where  I  had  heard  his 
voice  before.  I  know  now.  As  sure  as  I'm  a  living  man 
it  was  Jack  Simpson  as  beat  us  back  from  that  there 
engine-house  when  we  were  going  to  stop  the  pumps  in 
the  strike." 

Now  that  the  clew  was  given,  a  dozen  others  of  those 
who  had  been  present  agreed  with  the  speaker.  The 
event  was  now  an  old  one,  and  all  bitterness  had  passed. 
Had  it  been  known  at  the  time,  or  within  a  few  months 
afterward,  Jack's  life  would  probably  have  paid  the 
penalty;  but  now  the  predominant  feeling  was  one  of 
admiration.  Those  who  had,  during  the  last  few  weeks, 
wearily  watched  the  pumping  out  of  the  Vaughan,  felt 
how  fatal  would  have  been  the  delay  had  it  occurred 
when  the  strike  ended  and  they  were  penniless  and  with- 
out resources,  and  no  feeling  of  ill-will  remained. 

"He  be  a  game  'un,  to  think  o'  that  boy  standing  alone 
agin*  us  a',  and  not  a  soul  as  much  as  suspected  it! 
Did'st  know  o't,  Bill  Haden?" 

"Noa, "  Bill  said,  "never  so  much  as  dream  o't,  but 
now  I  thinks  it  over,  it  be  loikely  enoo'.  I  often  thought 
what  wonderful  luck  it  were  as  he  gave  me  that  'ere 
bottle  o'  old  Tom,  and  made  me  as  drunk  as  a  loord  joost 
at  th'  roight  time,  and  I  ha'  thought  it  were  curious  too, 
seeing  as  never  before  or  since  has  he  giv'd  me  a  bottle 
o'  liquor,  but  now  it  all  comes  natural  enough.  Well, 
to  be  sure,  and  to  think  that  lad  should  ha'  done  all  that 
by  hisself,  and  ne'er  a  soul  the  wiser!  You  may  be  sure 
the  gaft'er  didn't  know  no  more  than  we,  or  he'd  a  done 
Bummat  for  the  lad  at  the  time.  He  offered  rewards,  too, 
for  the  finding  out  who  'twere  as  had  done  it,  and  to  think 
'twas  my  Jack!  Well,  well,  he  be  a  good  plucked  un, 
too  they  didn't  ca'  him  Bulldog  for  nowt,  for  it  would 
ha'  gone  hard  wi'  him  had  't  been  found  out.  I'm  main 
proud  o'  that  lad." 


FACn^a  DEATH.  229 

And  so  the  discovery  that  Jack  had  so  wished  to  avoid, 
vliea  it  was  at  last  made,  added  much  to  the  respect  with 
-which  he  was  held  in  the  Vaughan  pit.  If  when  a  boy 
lie  would  dare  to  carry  out  such  a  scheme  as  this,  it  was 
clear  that  as  a  man  he  was  not  to  be  trifled  with.  The 
reputation  which  he  had  gained  by  his  courage  in  de- 
scending into  the  mine,  in  his  battle  with  Tom  Walker, 
and  by  the  clear-headedness  and  quickness  of  decision 
which  had  saved  the  lives  of  the  survivors  of  the  explo- 
sion, was  imiuensely  increased ;  and  any  who  had  before 
felt  sore  at  the  thought  of  so  young  a  hand  being  placed 
above  them  in  command  of  the  pit,  felt  that  in  all  that 
constitutes  a  man — in  energy,  courage,  and  ability — Jack 
Simpson  was  worthy  the  post  of  manager  of  the  Vaughan 
mine. 

Bill  Haden  was  astonished  upon  his  return  home  that 
night  to  find  that  his  wife  had  all  along  known  that  it 
was  Jack  who  had  defended  the  Vaughan,  and  was  in- 
clined to  feel  greatb'  aggrieved  at  having  been  kept  in 
the  dark. 

"Did  ye  think  as  I  wasn't  to  be  trusted  not  [to  split  on 
my  own  lad?"  he  exclaimed  indignantly. 

"We  knew  well  enough  that  thou  mightest  be  trusted 
when  thou  wer't  sober.  Bill,"  his  wife  said  gently;  "but 
as  about  four  nights  a  week  at  that  time  thou  wast  drunk, 
and  might  ha'  blabbed  it  out,  and  had  known  nowt  in 
the  morning  o'  what  thou'dst  said,  Jack  and  I  were  of 
a  mind  that  less  said  soonest  mended." 

"Maybe  you  were  right,"  Bill  Haden  said,  after  a 
pause ;  "a  man  has  got  a  loose  tongue  when  he's  in  drink, 
and  I  should  never  ha'  forgiven  myself  had  I  harmed  t' 
Jad." 


330 


FACUIG  DEATH. 


CHAPTEB  XXX. 


It  was  not  until  the  pit  was  cleared  of  water  and  about 
lio  go  to  -work  again  that  the  question  of  Bill  Haden  and 
bis  wife  removing  from  their  cottage  came  forward  for 
decision.  Jack  had  been  staying  with  Mr.  Brook,  who 
had  ordered  that  the  house  in  which  the  late  manager 
had  lived  should  be  put  in  good  order  and  furnished 
from  top  to  bottom,  and  had  arranged  for  his  widow  and 
children  to  remove  at  once  to  friends  living  at  a  distance. 
Feeling  as  he  did  that  he  owed  his  life  to  the  young 
man  he  was  eager  to  do  everything  in  his  power  to  pro- 
mote his  comfort  and  prosperity,  and  he  was,  apart  from 
the  colliery,  a  wealthy  man  and  a  bachelor,  he  did  not 
care  to  what  expense  he  went. 

The  house,  "the  great  house  on  the  hill,"  as  Jack  had 
described  it  when  speaking  to  his  artist  friend  Pastor 
years  before,  was  a  far  larger  and  more  important  build- 
ing than  the  houses  of  managers  of  mines  in  general.  It 
had,  indeed,  been  originally  the  residence  of  a  family 
owning  a  good  deal  of  land  in  the  neighborhood,  but 
they,  when  coal  was  discovered  and  work  began,  sold 
this  property  and  went  to  live  in  London,  and  as  non3 
cared  to  take  a  house  so  close  to  the  coal-pits  and  village 
of  Stokebridge,  it  was  sold  for  a  nominal  sum  to  the 
owner  of  the  Vaughan,  and  was  by  him  used  as  a  resi- 
dence for  his  manager. 

Now,  with  the  garden  nicely  laid  out,  redecorated  and 


FACING  DEATH.  331 

repaired  outside  and  in,  and  handsomely  furnished,  it 
resumed  its  former  appearance  of  a  gentleman's  country 
seat.  Mr.  Brook  begged  Jack  as  a  favor  not  to  go  nora* 
the  house  until  the  place  was  put  in  order,  and  althouga 
the  young  man  heard  that  a  Birmingham  contractor  ha.l 
taken  it  in  hand,  and  that  a  large  number  of  men  were  afc 
work  there,  he  had  no  idea  of  the  extensive  changes 
which  were  taking  place. 

A  few  days  before  work  began  again  at  the  Vaughan 
Jack  went  down  as  iisual  to  the  Hadcn's,  for  he  had 
looked  in  every  day  to  say  a  few  words  to  them  on  his 
way  back  from  the  pit-mouth.  "Now,  dad,"  he  said, 
"we  must  not  put  the  matter  off  any  longer.  I  am  to  go 
into  the  manager's  house  in  a  fortnight's  time.  I  hear 
they  have  been  painting  and  cleaning  it  up,  and  Mr. 
Brook  tells  me  he  has  put  new  furniture  in,  and  that  I 
shall  only  have  to  go  in  and  hang  up  my  hat.  Now  I 
want  for  you  to  arrange  to  come  up  on  the  same  day." 

"We  ha'  been  talking  the  matter  over  in  every  mortal 
way,  the  old  woman  and  me,  Jack,  and  I'll  tell  'ee  what 
we've  aboot  concluded.  On  one  side  thou  really  want  t* 
have  us  oop  wi'  'ee." 

"Yes,  indeed,  dad,"  Jack  said  earnestly. 

"I  know  thou  dost,  lad;  me  and  Jane  both  feels  that. 
Well,  that's  an  argiment  that  way.  Then  there's  the 
argiment  that  naturally  thou  would'st  not  like  the  miin 
who  hast  brought  thee  oop  to  be  working  in  the  pit  o' 
which  thou  wast  manager.  That's  two  reasons  that  way  ; 
on  the  other  side  there  be  two,  and  the  old  'ooman  and 
me  think  they  are  stronger  than  t'others.  First,  wo 
should  be  out  o'  place  at  the  house  oop  there.  Thou  wiii 
be  getting  to  know  all  kinds  o'  people,  and  whatevrr 
thou  may 'at  say.  Jack,  your  mother  and  mo  would  bo 
oot  o'  place.     That's  one  argiment.     The  next  argiment 


233  FACING  DEATH. 

is  that  we  shouldn't  like  it,  Jack;  we  should  feel  we  were 
out  o'  place  and  that  our  ways  were  out  o'  place,  and  we 
should  be  joost  miserable.  Instead  o'  doing  us  a  kind- 
ness you'd  joost  make  our  lives  a  burden,  and  I  know  'ee 
don't  want  to  do  that.  We's  getting  on  in  loife  and  be 
too  old  to  change  our  ways,  and  nothing  thou  eould'et 
say  could  persuade  us  to  live  a'ways  dressed  up  in  our 
Sunday  clothes  in  your  house." 

"Well,  dad,  I  might  put  you  both  in  a  comfortable 
cottage,  without  work  to  do." 

"What  should  I  do  wi'cut  my  work,  Jack?  noa,  lad,  I 
must  work  as  long  as  I  can,  or  I  should  die  o'  pure  idle- 
ness. But  I  needn't  work  at  a  stall.  I'm  fifty  now,  and 
although  I  ha'  got  another  fifteen  years'  work  in  me,  I 
hope,  my  bones  bean't  as  liss  as  they  was.  Thou  might 
give  me  the  job  as  underground  viewer.  I  can  put  in  a 
prop  or  see  to  the  firing  o*  a  shot  wi'  any  man.  Oi've 
told  my  mates  you  want  to  have  me  and  the  old  woman 
oop  at  th'  house,  and  they'll  know  that  if  I  stop  under- 
ground it  be  o'  my  own  choice.  I  know,  lad,  it  wouldn't 
be  roight  for  me  to  be  a  getting  droonk  at  the  'Chequers' 
and  thou  manager;  but  I  ha*  told  t'  old  woman  that  I 
will  swear  off  liquor  altogether." 

"No,  no,  dad!"  Jack  said,  affected  at  this  proof  of  Bill 
Haden's  desire  to  do  what  he  could  toward  maintaining 
his  dignity.  "I  wouldn't  think  o't.  If  you  and  mother 
feel  that  you'd  be  more  happy  and  comfortable  here — 
and  maybe  you  are  right,  I  didn't  think  over  the  matter 
from  thy  side  as  well  as  my  own,  as  I  ought  to  have  done 
— of  course  you  shall  stay  here ;  and,  of  course,  you  shall 
liave  a  berth  as  under-viewer.  As  for  swearing  off  drink 
altogether,  I  wouldn't  ask  it  of  you,  though  I  do  wish 
you  could  resolve  never  to  drink  too  much  again.  Ycu 
ho,'  been  used  to  go  to  the  'Chequers'  every  night  fcr 


FACING  DEATH.  233 

nigh  forty  j'ears,  and  you  couldn't  give  it  up  now.  You 
would  pine  away  without  somewhere  to  go.  However,  this 
must  bo  understood,  whenever  you  like  to  come  up  to  me 
I  shall  bo  glad  to  see  you,  and  I  shall  expect  you  on  Sun- 
day to  dinner  if  on  no  other  day ;  and  whenever  the  time 
ehall  come  when  your  feel,  dad,  that  you'd  rather  give 
up  work,  there  will  be  a  cottage  for  you  and  mother 
somewhere  handy  to  me,  and  enough  to  live  comfortably 
and  free  from  care." 

"That's  a  bargain,  lad,  and  I'm  roight  gladifcbeoff  my 
mind,  for  I  ha*  been  bothering  over  't  ever  since  thee 
Bpoke  to  me  last." 

The  same  evening  Jack  had  a  long  talk  with  "Roxvy. 
Eis  friend,  although  healthy,  was  by  no  means  physi- 
cally strong,  and  found  the  work  of  a  miner  almost  be. 
yond  him.  He  had  never  taken  to  the  life  as  Jack  had 
done,  and  his  friend  knew  that  for  the  last  year  or  two 
he  had  been  turning  his  thoughts  in  other  directions, 
and  that  of  all  things  he  would  like  to  be  a  schoolmaster. 
He  had  for  years  read  and  studied  a  good  deal,  and  Mr. 
Dodgson  said  that  with  a  year  in  a  training  college  he 
would  be  able  to  pass.  He  had  often  talked  the  matter 
over  with  Jack,  and  the  latter  told  him  now  that  he  had 
entered  his  name  in  St.  Mark's  College,  Chelsea,  had 
paid  his  fees  six  months  in  advance,  his  savings  amply 
Bufficing  for  this  without  drawing  upon  his  salary,  and 
that  he  was  to  present  himself  there  in  a  week's  time. 

The  announcement  took  away  Harry's  breath,  but  as 
soon  as  he  recovered  himself  he  accepted  Jack's  offer  as 
frankly  as  it  was  made.  It  had  always  been  natural  for 
Jack  to  lend  him  a  hand,  and  it  seemed  to  him,  as  to 
Jack,  natural  that  it  should  be  so  no^7. 

"Have  you  told  Nelly?" 

"No,   I  left  it  for  you   to   tell,  Hai'vy.     I  knov;,  oi 


234  FAGIim  DEATH. 

course,  one  reason  why  you  want  to  be  a  schoolmaster, 
and  she  will  know  it  too.  She  is  a  strange  girl,  is  Nelly ; 
I  never  did  quite  understand  her,  and  never  shall ;  why 
on  earth  she  should  refuse  you  I  can't  make  out.  She '3 
had  lots  o'  other  offers  these  last  four  years,  but  it's  all 
the  same.  There's  no  one  she  cares  for,  why  shouldn't 
she  take  you?" 

"I  can  wait,"  Harry  said  quietly,  "'there's  plenty  of 
time ;  perhaps  some  day  I  shall  win  her,  and  I  think — 
yes,  I  think  now — that  I  shall." 

"Well,"  Jack  said  cheerfully,  ''as  you  say,  there's 
plenty  of  time ;  I've  always  said  thirty  was  the  right  age 
to  marry,  and  you  want  eight  years  of  that,  and  Nelly 
won't  get  old  faster  than  you  do,  so  if  she  don't  fall  ia 
love  with  any  one  elso  it  must  come  right ;  she  has  stood 
out  for  nearly  four  years,  and  though  I  don't  pretend  to 
know  anything  of  women,  I  should  think  no  woman 
could  go  on  saying  no  for  twelve  years." 

Harry,  although  not  given  to  loud  mirth,  laughed 
heartily  at  Jack's  views  over  love-making,  and  the  tv,'o 
then  walked  across  to  Nelly  Hardy's  cottage.  Jack  told 
her  what  Bill  Haden  and  his  wife  had  decided,  and  sha 
approved  their  determination.  Then  Harry  said  what 
Jack  had  arranged  for  him. 

Nelly  shook  her  head  as  if  in  answer  to  her  o^-a 
thoughts  while  Harry  was  speaking,  but  when  he  ceased 
she  congratulated  him  warmly. 

"You  were  never  fit  for  pit-work  Harry,  and  a  school- 
master's life  will  suit  you  well.  It  is  curious  that  Jack's 
two  friends  should  both  have  taken  to  the  same  life." 

Jack's  surprise  was  unbounded  when,  a  month  aftor 
the  reopening  of  the  Yaughan,  Mr.  Brcok  took  him  over 
to  his  new  abode.     His  bewilderment  at  th©  size  and 


FACING  DEATH.  £35 

completeness  of  the  house  and  its  fittings  was  even 
greater  than  his  pleasure. 

"But  "what  am  I  to  do  alone  in  this  great  place,  Mr. 
Brook?"  he  asked;  "I  shall  be  lost  here.  I  am  indeed 
deeply  grateful  to  you,  but  it  is  much  too  big  for  me 
altogether. ' ' 

"It  is  no  bigger  now  than  it  has  always  been,"  Mr. 
Brook  said,  "and  you  will  never  be  lost  as  long  as  you 
hp.ve  your  study  there,"  and  ho  pointed  to  a  room  snugly 
fitted  up  as  a  library  and  study.  "You  will  be  no  more 
lonely  than  I  or  other  men  without  wives  and  families; 
besides  you  know  these  may  come  some  day." 

"Ah!  but  that  will  be  many  years  on,"  Jack  said;  "I 
always  made  up  my  mind  not  to  marry  till  I  wr.9  thirty, 
because  a  wife  prevents  you  making  your  way." 

"Yes;  but  now  that  you  have  made  your  "way  so  far, 
Jack,  a  wife  will  aid  rather  than  hinder  you.  But  it  will 
be  time  to  think  of  that  in  another  three  or  four  years. 
You  will  not  find  it  so  dull  as  you  imagine.  Jack.  There 
is  your  work,  which  will  occupy  the  greater  part  of  your 
day.  There  is  your  study  for  the  evening.  You  will 
epeedily  know  all  the  people  worth  knowing  round  here; 
I  have  already  introduced  you  to  a  good  many,  and  they 
will  be  sure  to  call  as  soon  as  you  ai-e  settled  here.  In 
the  stable,  my  dear  boy,  you  will  find  a  couplo  of  horses, 
and  a  saddle,  and  a  dogcart,  so  that  you  will  be  able  to 
take  exercise  and  call  about.  I  shall  keep  the  horses.  I 
consider  them  necessary  for  my  manager.  My  men  will 
keep  the  garden  in  order,  and  I  think  that  you  will  find 
that  your  salary  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year 
to  begin  with  ample  for  your  other  expenses." 

Jack  was  completely  overpowered  by  the  kindness  of  his 
employer,   but    the   latter    would   net  hear   of    thanks. 


236  FACING  DEATH. 

"Why,  man,  I  owe  you  my  life,"  he  said;  "what  ara 
these  little  things  in  comparison?" 

Jack  found  fewer  difficulties  than  he  had  anticipated 
in  his  new  position.  His  speech  at  the  opening  of  the 
mine  added  to  the  favor  with  which  he  was  held  for  his 
conduct  at  the  time  of  the  explosion,  and  further  height- 
ened the  respect  due  to  him  for  his  defense  of  the 
Vaughan.  As  he  went  through  the  mine  he  had  ever  a 
cheery  "Good-morning,  Bob,"  "Good-morning,  Jack," 
for  his  old  comrades,  and  the  word  "sir"  was  now  uni- 
versally added  to  the  answered  "Good-morning,"  a  con^ 
cession  not  always  made  by  colliers  to  their  employers. 

The  miners  soon  felt  the  advantages  of  the  new  mana- 
ger's energy,  backed  as  he  was  in  every  respect  by  the 
owner.  The  work  as  laid  down  by  the  government  in- 
spector was  carried  out,  and  Mr.  Brook  having  bought 
up  for  a  small  sum  the  disused  Logan  mine,  in  which 
several  of  the  lower  seams  of  coal  were  still  unworked, 
the  opening  between  the  pits  was  made  permanent,  and 
the  Logan  shaft  became  the  upcast  to  the  Vaughan,  thus 
greatly  simplifying  the  work  of  ventilation,  lessening 
the  danger  of  explosion,  and  giving  a  means  of  escape 
for  the  miners  should  such  a  catastrophe  recur  in  spite 
of  all  precautions. 

As  nearly  half  the  old  workers  at  the  pit  had  perished 
in  the  explosion,  an  equal  number  of  new  hands  had  to 
be  taken  on.  Jack,  sharing  the  anxiety  of  the  vicar  and 
Mr.  Dodgson,  that  all  the  good  work  should  not  be 
checked  by  the  ingress  of  a  fresh  population,  directed 
that  all  vacancies  should  be  filled  up  by  such  colliers  of 
good  character  as  resided  at  Stokebridge,  working  for 
other  pits  in  the  neighborhood.  As  the  Vaughan  prom- 
ised to  be  the  most  comfortable  and  yrell-worked  pit  in 
the  country,  these  were  only  too  glad  to  change  service, 


FACING  DEATH.  237 

and  more  uames  were  given  in  than  vacancies  could  Le 
found  for.  As  all  the  inhabitants  of  Stokebridge  bad 
participated  in  the  benefits  of  the  night-schools  and 
classes,  and  in  the  improvements  which  had  taken  place, 
the  advance  of  the  village  suffered  no  serious  check  from 
the  catastrophe  at  the  Vaughan. 


FAOim  DEAia. 


CHAPTER  XXXL 

CONCLirSIOK. 

TERiis  years  more  Ox  progress  and  Stokebridga  had  be- 
come the  model  village  of  tho  Black  Country.  The  chief 
employer  of  labor,  bis  manager,  the  vicar,  and  school- 
master all  Tv'orked  together  for  this  end.  The  library 
had  been  a  great  success,  and  it  was  rare,  indeed,  for  a 
drunken  man  to  be  seen  in  the  streets  even  of  a  Saturday 
night.  Many  of  the  public  houses  had  closed  their  doors 
altogether;  and  in  addition  to  the  library  a  large  and 
comfortable  clubhouse  had  been  built. 

The  men  of  an  evening  could  smoke  their  pipes,  play 
at  bagatelle,  chess,  checkers,  or  cards,  and  takQ  such 
beer  as  they  required,  any  man  getting  drunk  or  even 
noisy  to  be  expelled  from  the  club.  This,  however,  waa 
a  rule  never  requiring  to  be  called  into  force.  Tho 
building  was  conducted  on  the  principle  of  a  regimental 
canteen.  The  beer  was  good  and  cheap  but  not  strong, 
no  spirits  were  sold,  but  excellent  tea,  coffee,  and  choco- 
late could  be  had  at  the  lowest  prices. 

The  building  was  closed  during  the  day,  but  beer  waa 
sent  out  both  for  dinners  and  suppers  to  those  who  re- 
quired it.  There  was  a  comfortable  room  where  women 
could  sew,  knit,  and  talk  as  they  pleased,  or  they  could, 
if  they  liked,  sit  in  the  general  room  with  their  husbands. 
Entertainments  and  lectures  were  of  frequent  occurrence, 
and  the  establishment,  supplemented  by  the  library  and 
washhouse,  did  wonders  for  Stokebridge. 


FACING  DEATH.  239 

The  promise  made  by  Mr.  Brook  at  the  fete  had  been 
carried  out.  A  choir-master  came  over  twice  a  week 
from  Birmingham,  and  the  young  people  entered  into  the 
Bcheme  with  such  zest  that  the  choir  had  carried  away 
the  prize  three  years  in  succession  at  Birmingham.  The 
night-school  was  now  carried  oxi  on  a  larger  scale  than 
ever,  and  the  school  for  cooking  and  sewing  was  so  we  at- 
tended that  Mrs.  Dodgson  had  now  a  second  assistant. 
To  encourage  tho  children  and  j'oung  people  an  annual 
show  was  held,  at  which  many  prizes  were  given  for  gar- 
dening, needlework,  dressmaking,  carpentering,  and  a 
variety  of  other  subjects.  It  was  seldom,  indeed,  that 
an  untidy  dress  v;as  to  be  seen,  still  more  uncommon 
that  a  foul  word  was  heard  in  the  streets  of  Stokebridge. 
Nothing  could  make  the  rows  of  cottages  picturesque  as 
are  those  of  a  rural  village;  but  from  tubs,  placed  in 
front,  creepers  and  roses  climbed  over  the  houses,  v/hile 
the  gardens  behind  were  gay  with  flowers. 

No  young  woman  needed  to  remain  single  in  Stoke- 
bridge longer  than  she  chose,  for  so  noteworthy  were 
they  for  their  housewifely  qualities  that  the  young  pit- 
men of  the  villages  round  thought  themselves  fortunate 
indeed  if  they  could  get  a  wife  from  Stokebridge.  Bill 
Cummings,  Fred  "Wood,  and  several  others  of  Jack's 
boy  friends,  were  viewers  or  under-managers  of  the 
Vaughan,  and  many  had  left  to  taka  sisiilar  situations 
elsewhere. 

Jack  Simpson  was  popular  with  all  classes.  "With  tho 
upper  class  his  simple  straightforwardness,  his  cheerful- 
ness and  good  temper,  made  him  a  great  favorite,  al- 
though they  found  it  hard  to  understand  how  so  quiet 
and  unassuming  a  young  fellow  could  be  the  hero  of  the 
two  rescues  at  the  Vaughan,  for,  no\v  when  the  fact  was 
known,  Jack  no  longer  made  a  secret  of  his  share  in  the 


240  FACING  DEATH. 

attack  by  the  rioters  on  the  engine-house.  Among  the 
pitmen  his  popularity  was  unbounded.  Of  an  evening 
he  would  sometimes  come  down  to  the  clubroom  and 
chat  as  unrestrainedly  and  intimately  as  of  old  with  the 
friends  of  his  boyhood,  and  he  never  lost  an  opportunity 
of  pushing  their  fortunes. 

Once  a  week  he  spent  the  evening  with  Bill  Haden  and 
his  wife,  who  always  came  up  and  passed  Sunday  with 
him  when  he  was  at  home.  At  this  time  all  ceremony 
was  dispensed  with,  the  servants  were  sent  out  of  the 
room,  and  when  the  pitman  and  his  wife  became  accus- 
tomed to  their  surroundings  they  were  far  more  at  their 
ease  than  they  had  at  first  thought  possible. 

On  the  evenings  when  he  went  down  to  his  mother  he 
always  dropped  in  for  an  hour's  talk  with  his  friend 
Nelly.  There  was  no  shadow  of  change  in  their  rela- 
tions. Nelly  was  his  friend  firm  and  fast,  to  whom  he 
told  all  his  thoughts  and  plans.  Harry  was  assistant 
master  in  a  school  at  Birmingham,  and  was,  as  he  told 
Jack,  still  waiting  patiently. 

Jack  was  now  often  over  at  Birmingham,  and  one 
night  he  said  to  Nelly  : 

"Nelly,  I  promised  you  long  ago  that  I  would  tell  you 
if  I  ever  fell  in  love. " 

"And  you  have  come  to  tell  me  now,"  she  asked 
quietly. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "if  it  can  be  called  falling  in  love; 
for  it  has  been  so  gradual  that  I  don't  know  how  it  be- 
gan. Perhaps  three  years  ago,  when  she  refused  another 
man.  I  was  glad  of  it,  and  of  course  asked  myself  why  I 
was  glad.  There  came  no  answer  but  one — I  wanted  her 
myself." 

"I  suppose  it  is  Alice  Merton?"  Nelly  said  as  quietly 
as  before. 


FACn^G  DEATH.  241 

"Of  course, "  Jack  said ;  "it  could  be  no  one  else.  I 
Euppose  I  like  her  because  she  is  the  reverse  of  myself. 
She  is  gentle  but  lively  and  full  of  fun,  she  is  made  to  be 
the  light  of  a  hard-working  man's  home.  I  am  not  at  all 
gentle,  and  I  have  very  little  idea  of  fun.  Alice  is  made 
to  lean  on  some  one ;  I  suppose  I  am  meant  to  be  leaned 
upon.  I  suppose  it  is  always  the  case  that  opposite 
natures  are  attracted  toward  one  another,  the  one  forma 
the  complement  of  the  other. ' ' 

Nelly  sat  thinking.  This  then  was  the  reason  why  she 
had  never  attracted  Jack.  Both  their  natures  were 
strong  and  firm.  Both  had  full  control  over  themselves, 
although  both  of  a  passionate  nature ;  both  had  the  capa- 
bility of  making  great  sacrifices,  even  of  life  if  necessary; 
both  had  ambition  and  a  steady  power  of  work.  No 
wonder  Jack  had  thought  of  her  as  a  comrade  rather  than 
as  a  possible  wife;  while  Harry,  gentler  and  easily  led, 
patient  rather  than  firm,  leaned  upon  her  strong  nature. 

"I  think,  dear  Jack,"  she  said,  "that  Misa  Merton  is 
the  very  woman  to  make  you  happy.  You  have  known 
each  other  for  twelve  years,  and  can  make  no  mistake. 
I  need  not  say  how  truly  and  sincerely  I  wish  you  every 
happiness."  There  was  a  quiver  in  her  voice  as  she 
spoke,  but  her  face  was  as  firm  and  steadfast  as  ever ; 
and  Jack  Simpson,  as  he  walked  homeward,  did  not 
dream  that  Nelly  Hardy  was  weeping  as  if  her  heart 
would  break  over  this  final  downfall  of  her  life's  dream. 
It  was  not  that  she  had  for  the  last  seven  years  ever 
thought  that  Jack  would  ask  her  to  be  his  wife,  but  she 
would  have  been  content  to  go  on  to  the  end  of  her  life 
as  his  first  and  dearest  friend.  Then  she  said  at  last, 
"That's  done  with.  Jack  and  I  will  always  be  great 
friends,  but  not  as  we  have  been.  Perhaps  it  is  as  well. 
Better  now  than  ten  years  on." 


242  FACING  DEATH. 

Then  her  thoughts  went  to  Harry,  to  whom,  indeed, 
during  the  last  few  years  they  had  gone  oftener  than  she 
would  have  admitted  to  herself.  "Ho  is  very  faithful 
and  kind  and  good,  and  I  suppose  one  of  these  days  I 
ghall  have  to  give  in.  He  will  not  expect  much,  but  he 
deserves  all  I  could  give  him.*' 

In  after  years,  however,  Nelly  Shepherd  learned  that 
she  could  give  her  husband  ver3'  true  and  earnest  love ; 
and  the  headmaster  and  mistress  of  the  largest  school  at 
"Wolverhampton  are  regarded  by  all  who  know  them,  and 
by  none  less  than  by  Jack  Simpson  and  his  wife,  as  a  per- 
fectly happy  couple. 

It  is  ten  years  since  Jack  married  Alice  Merton,  who 
had  loved  him  for  years  before  he  asked  her  to  be  his 
wife.  Jack  is  now  part  proprietor  of  the  Vaughan  pit, 
and  is  still  its  real  manager,  although  he  has  a  nominal 
manager  under  him.  He  cannot,  however,  be  always  on 
the  spot,  as  he  lives  near  Birmingham,  and  is  one  of  the 
greatest  authorities  on  mining,  and  the  first  consulting 
engineer,  in  the  Black  Country.  At  Mr.  Brook's  death 
he  will  be  sole  proprietor  of  the  Vaughan,  that  gentle- 
man having  at  Jack's  marriage  settled  its  reversion  upon 
his  wife. 

Dinner  is  over,  and  he  is  sitting  in  the  garden,  sur- 
rounded by  those  he  most  cares  for  in  the  world.  It  is 
the  first  of  June,  a  day  upon  which  a  small  party  always 
assembles  at  his  house.  By  his  side  is  his  wife,  and 
next  to  her  are  Harry  Shepherd  and  Nelly.  Between  the 
ladies  a  warm  friendship  has  sprung  up  of  late  years, 
while  that  between  the  three  friends  has  never  diminished 
in  the  slightest.  On  Jack's  other  hand  sits  an  artist, 
bearing  one  of  the  most  honored  names  in  England, 
whose  health  Jack  always  proposes  at  this  dinner  as  "the 
founder  of   his  fortune."     Next  to  the  artist  sits  Mx, 


FACING  DEATH.  343 

Brook,  and  beyond  him  Mrs.  Simpson's  father,  a  per- 
manent resident  in  the  house  now,  but  some  years  back 
a  profeesor  of  mathematics  in  Birmingham.  Playing  in 
the  garden  are  six  children,  two  of  whom  call  the  young 
tSimpsons  cousins,  although  there  is  no  blood  relation- 
ahip  botweon  thorn;  and  walking  with  them  are  an  old 
couple,  who  live  in  the  pretty  cottage  just  opposite  to 
the  entrance  of  the  grounds,  and  whom  Jack  Simpson 
Gtill  aff6ctionatel:r  C8lif3  "dad"  and  "another." 


ssassrOi^ 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


NOV  2  9  1965  9  9 


HHC'D 


U-tl^6-'65-2PM 


LOAN  DEPT. 


Due  ^d  of  SUMMER  Petiod 


_      HL'a07D  0  0 


sub|ecr  to  recall  after 


REcnin    julH    70-lZM  d  g 


LD  21A-60m-3,'65 
(F2336sl0)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


V    }.^ 


